Specks of Dust
by truegold-dragonstar
Summary: A young farmer, Emlyn, discovers that an adventuring career is different to what he expected - and his companions are certainly like nothing he could ever have imagined!
1. Prologue:At the Sign of the Orc and Rose

**Disclaimer: I don't own D&D and I'm making no profit from this story. I **_**do**_** own the world and characters presented here.**

**AN: Ok, like I said in the summary this is the same story I formerly had up here under the title 'Heroes' Quest', only I have found a new title for it and rewritten the prologue to a) be much better (I hope) and b) to fit the new title (which I **_**know**_** is much better). I've also introduced a framing narrative, and one or two other little bits and pieces which will come out later in the story. It's not that original, but I am hoping to be able to give it my own twist. I hope you enjoy it, and please read and review!**

**ps – happy now, Kar? ;-D**

_PROLOGUE__: At the Sign of the Orc and Rose_

_The boy did not yet know that he was an artist. He had not reached the st__age of being able to look at his love of stories and of songs and to consciously use it to make beautiful things, to entertain and to amaze. What he did know was that when he sat in the parlour at old Tobin's and stared into the fire, listening to the voice of the bard who was staying out the long winter at the inn, it gave him queer shivers up his spine and sent him on delicious journeys into the past and the realms of imagination._

_That was why he had begged his father to let him go out into the dark of the long nights before New Dawning, with the snow billowing through the streets so that the torches fixed to the house walls flared and guttered and were extinguished and the soft flakes piled up into great drifts in the gutters. His mother had been afraid, and not wanted to let him leave the little dark enclosed space that was their house on a winter night, but his father had laughed at her fears._

_'If the boy gets in trouble,' he said, 'why, there's any number of places 'e could find 'elp. We're all friends in this neighbour'ood, and the Rose isn't but a step. He couldn't get lost, and old Tobin knows 'im. They'll look after 'im there.'_

_So the boy had been allowed to slip out through his front door and embark on his own journey of adventure through the violent and changed winter world, forging his way like a ship to the sanctuary of the old inn on the corner. Snow crystals were resting in his eylashes as he stopped to look up at the inn sign. Old Tobin had had it repainted just this summer past, and the boy thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. The Rose swung proudly above the dark oak door, each petal formed out of billowing and leaping golden flames. In the glow of the lantern that hung above the door, rocking and swinging with the force of the snowstorm, the painted flames seemed to leap like the flames of the torches. But unlike the torches, this fire did not go out; it remained forever, forming the perfect rose.__ The distant figure of the cloaked orc in the background of the sign was barely noticeable beside the blazing flames._

_The boy smiled and pushed open the door. It needed both of his hands, for the wood was old and warped, and he could see his own fingers blue with cold as he pressed down on the icy cold iron latch._

_The door swung open suddenly, flung by the wind, and the huddle of people inside turned at this sudden intrusion of the cold outdoors into their cosy and sheltered world._

_'What poor fool's out in this weather?' called old Tobin from behind the bar. He came hustling across the room to see and to help drag the door shut against the howling and raging wind, which did not seem to want to be shut out now that it had found its way into this warm sanct__uary. 'Why, what are you doing 'ere, youngster?'_

_The boy grinned up at the innkeeper with his red nose and tuft of white beard, for they were great friends. 'Please, I've come to see if Master Orland will tell a story or two.'_

_'And what better time for it?' called a rich, deep voice from across the room. The bard stepped out into the firelight. He was fat and jolly, convivial company, as all the Orc and Rose's regulars had quickly discovered. His voice was the truly magnificent thing about him; it rolled and boomed as though he was announcing something momentous and important with every word. 'What can we do on a dire evening like tonight but huddle around the fire and tell stories? What would you like a story about, young man?'_

_Almost immediately, before the boy had a chance to speak, the bard corrected himself. 'Of course, stories are more complex than that; it's hard to say that they are about any one thing. Let's make the choice easier – where should our story start?'_

_'The Islands,' said the boy, promptly. All the best stories of heroes and adventure began in the Islands. 'In summer,' he added as an afterthought, remembering the icy night outside._

_The bard smiled. 'I have just the thing for a night like tonight. Listen, my friends!' His voice gathered resonance and he drew himself up. 'It begins with a vision._

_'Imagine a ball rolling through space. It looks tiny, small enough to be blown away in one gentle breath, but this fragile sphere has withstood the breath of gods and the storms of more than a million years. It has known wars and kingdoms, famines and feasts. Since the dwarves were first born in its darkness it has borne the weight of fear, of hope, of cruelty and of love. And in its timeless immensity, this little ball has rolled steadily onwards through all._

_'Even the gods are not as old as this blue and green ball rolling through the vast emptiness. They shaped it, moulding hills and valleys, mountains and oceans. They gave it colour and life, loved it and caused it to grow, and it grew and flourished and bore fruit. But it was here before they came and when the gods and all the races of the world are no more than a memory it will be here still._

_'This is the world of life and light, the world of anger and courage and of loyalty and despair. This is a world held in the balance, the world of choices, the battleground of the gods. And this is also the world of freedom, where all may choose who and what they are. This is Iluen._

_'If you look closely at the rolling sphere you can pick out the shape of oceans and continents, and the shoreline that bounds the two. Look closer yet and you can spot the Islands, sheltered beyond a great sweep of coast from the northern winds. If you strain your eyes until you can make out their individual shapes, you can pick one out from the mass: Goldisle._

_'Like all the Islands, Goldisle is a seagoing place. There's not a coastal village which doesn't have its fishing fleet drawn up on the sandy beaches. But people can't only eat fish, and if you turn your glance away from the sea you will see that Goldisle's scant flat land is patchworked into fields, and farm buildings dot the landscape._

_'Look at one such building. It is a small farm, and might be farmed by two or three men, but all save the very closest field is going back to the wild. The fields are unploughed, and thistles and saplings are claiming them once again. This is a farm which cannot survive much longer. There are no animals any more, and the crops in the field close to the house are scanty. Although it is midmorning there is no one moving around the farm._

_'Inside the building it is dark. The shutters are open, but they do not seem to light up the little bedroom at the back of the house. It is a tiny, cramped room, but unlike the rest of the house it has been meticulously cleaned and repaired. There are no spider webs in the corner of the ceiling or damp stains on the walls, though the large, old kitchen of the house has both these things in plenty._

_'On the bed in the dark bedroom lies an old woman. Her pale face is lined and the white hair spread across her pillow highlights the dark purple shadows under her closed eyes. Her face is cavernous and gaunt, skin drawn tight against her bones, and the only sound in the room is her ragged, gasping breaths. The shadows of the Grey Path are gathering close around her, clustering round the bed so that they seem to dim the light of the sun._

_'Beside the bed a young man is sitting. He is holding one of the old lady's hands in both of his own, and against his large brown hands her fingers are fragile and so pale as to be almost translucent. His eyes, full of pain, are fixed on her face, but she can't see him any more. His broad shoulders are firmly set against the misery, and a stray sunbeam gleams on his pale hair, the only bright thing in the room._

_'His name is Emlyn Ulmer and he is waiting for his mother to die.'_


	2. An Adventurer

**AN: Um… what do I have to say about this story before I start? This is a story; it's not an account of a D&D game. That means – well, basically, things happen the way I want them to for the benefit of the story rather than relying on dice. I don't think there's anything else right now… so, enjoy it! Please R&R and concrit welcomed – if you think it's bad I'd rather hear that than nothing at all. In fact, the more detailed and severe you can be, the better, since if I don't know what's wrong I can't fix it!**

**Oh yeah – sorry about the really lame title. If I think of something better then I'll change it later on.**

* * *

_Fourth day after Sun's Height, year 30016 by the Dwarf Count_

Emlyn sat on the doorstep. He could hear the high, piping notes of a blackbird singing and it burst on his ears with surprising volume because he had been inside for so long. Emlyn sighed. As long as he could remember there had been blackbirds nesting in the spinney at the corner of Long Acre, and the bird's piercing song was a fragile link back to his childhood and beyond, to the generations of his family that had lived in this place before him. It seemed wrong that the blackbird which had woken him at dawn to begin the routine of the farming day should still be singing as his whole life changed.

The sunlight was dazzling and the world seemed made of bright colours and sharp outlines. The scent of the wild flowers that had seeded themselves in the top field was hanging strongly in the still air. Emlyn rubbed a hand across his eyes. He hadn't had enough sleep recently.

He didn't know what to do.

He couldn't stay here, he knew that much. He was no farmer. Highwell was falling to pieces before his eyes. It would take dedication and devotion to nurture a farm through the raids and the uncertainty and the fluctuating prices, and Emlyn knew he didn't have the single-minded love for the land that it would take.

All his life Emlyn had wanted to leave, to take his father's old sword and armour and go looking for adventure. But he'd had to stay for his mother… He blinked, and swallowed down the lump in his throat. Now that he could do anything he wanted he couldn't seem to find the motivation.

He kept remembering his mother's face. She'd looked so old at the end, ancient, and yet she was not yet fifty. It was Goldisle that killed her, he thought savagely. Goldisle was the rotten apple in the barrel, the serpent hidden among the gems of the Islands. Emlyn was too young to remember a time before the Isle's troubles began. All his life he had been struggling to survive against the corruption and the armed might of the gangs that ran the Island, and that was the struggle that had etched lines into his mother's face long before her time and then killed her.

Emlyn glanced up at the hill. Over its brow lay another farm, and yet Emlyn couldn't remember a time when they'd last had neighbours. There had been people – people his mother would greet on a market day, people with whom they could trade goods or favours, lots of people they'd known, but no friends. All the good folk of Goldisle had cleared out, leaving the rogues and the thieves and the gangs. But his father had been a fighter by nature, and he had refused to leave. _We'll manage_, he'd said. Highwell had been his father's before him, after all, and his father's before that. But he hadn't reckoned on the vicious tithing that began as soon as the gangs had burned down the temples and taken control of the Island's law courts, and he couldn't predict his own death when he protested.

But there were no neighbours, no relatives and no friends. No one to know or care that Emlyn's mother had finally given up her hold on life. Not even a cleric to be with her at the end. They too had been driven off the Island or killed on the fateful night the temples burnt.

Emlyn hated the Island. He wanted out. But there was one thing he had to do first…

Sighing again, he climbed to his feet. The blackbird was still singing, and his mate had joined in, the pair calling backwards and forwards across the spinney, their liquid notes answering one another through the calm air.

There was someone coming up the track. Blinking, trying to clear the fog of tiredness from his brain, Emlyn squinted into the sun to try and make out the figure steadily climbing the dirt road that led down towards the far off dazzle of the sea.

A man's figure, slim and dark, not above the average height, bulked out only a little by his light leather armour. Emlyn frowned. Coming up here where no one came, at this time, it would have to be more than a coincidence. Was it possible…?

As the man reached the rickety gate and swung it open, the gate listing drunkenly on its one remaining hinge, Emlyn was sure. 'Tynan!' he called. He began to walk down the path, concentrating on staying upright.

Tynan Orn looked up, abandoning the gate, and came up to meet him in long strides. He clasped Emlyn's hand firmly. 'I came as soon as I got your message. My aunt…?'

Emlyn shook his head. 'I'm glad you came. But…' He gestured to his left. On that side of the path was a half-built funeral pyre.

Tynan didn't need to look. 'I'm sorry.'

Emlyn shrugged, though his throat was constricting. 'Don't be. Not too much. Look around you. The farm's failing. We both knew that. And she didn't want to have to leave.'

Tynan did look around him then. 'I knew the gate wouldn't have been in that condition in the old days,' he said, quietly. 'And I came through Goldport, of course. I think things are even worse there now than I've ever seen them. But I didn't realise quite how bad things were getting. What'll you do now?'

Emlyn shrugged again. 'I don't know.'

Something in his voice made Tynan look back at him sharply, this time noting the shadows underneath his cousin's blue eyes. 'How long is it since you slept?'

Emlyn struggled to think. 'I don't know,' he said again. 'I didn't want to leave her alone, and there was no one else…'

'Go and get some sleep,' said Tynan, taking Emlyn's arm and piloting him back up towards the farmhouse. 'We can discuss things when you wake up.'

'Uh-huh.' Emlyn cudgelled his thoughts into making some kind of sense. 'There might be some food if you're hungry. Water in the well.' He could still hear the blackbird's song, but now the pure notes seemed melancholy and heartbreaking.

'I know where you keep things, Emlyn. Sleep.'

* * *

Emlyn was woken by the birds. The rich golden light of evening was flooding into his room, and all the birds outside were singing fit to burst, a riot of chirps and twitters in full swing. It was such a familiar sound that Emlyn could cut it out of his immediate awareness and concentrate on other things.

He sat up and swung his legs out of bed, stuffing his feet into his boots. He was clearer-headed than he'd been for days, and suddenly hungry. But that too was familiar, and it didn't bother him so much any more.

He went out into the kitchen, boots knocking on the flagstones, and was about to cross to the outside door, standing invitingly open to let the sun stream in, when he stopped. The place had been cleaned up, he thought vaguely, pots washed and put away. The old oak table had been scrubbed, and Tynan's neat backpack was lying on it, his sword belt slung over the back of a chair. The ranger had shed his armour too, and stacked it neatly in a corner. Emlyn saw, without really looking, that the hardened leather was reinforced by metal studs and it was worn with use. For a second the old longing rose up in him. To be an adventurer; to walk the roads clad in armour with a sword at his side…

The door to the dark back bedroom had been closed.

Emlyn paused. Then, not quite sure why he did so, he walked around the table and opened the door.

His mother was still lying on the bed. Instinctively trying to be as quiet as he could, Emlyn walked over to look down at her.

Marisa Ulmer had never been a beautiful woman, but he could remember how pleasant and comforting she had looked when his father had been alive. Now all the gold had faded from her corn-coloured hair, and the blue eyes she had bequeathed to her son were closed. The skin was stretched so tightly across her broad cheekbones that her face looked like a mask.

Emlyn could feel all his strength fading. _I'm sorry, ma,_ he said, silently, his eyes pricking with tears. _I'm sorry I failed you…_ All at once he seemed to be trying to justify himself. _I tried! I worked and slaved at the farm, though my heart wasn't in it! I did everything I could…_ Emlyn had the sense of hammering at an immoveable wall, his protests bouncing off as if from a hard surface, words flung vainly into a great gulf as if they might bridge the emptiness. _But I still failed_.

Outside the light was fading into deep blue twilight. Emlyn looked down at his mother's pale, gaunt face, and suddenly found himself praying. _Lady Amarill have mercy and let her spirit walk swiftly to her final resting place. Koron walk beside her and give her courage. Arcaren guard her from the shadows, and Tiniel put a light before her spirit that she may see her way_. Most Islanders would have added another prayer, that the spirit should not become lost and return to its old dwelling, but Emlyn somehow had no fear of that. He knew that his mother was at peace now.

A deep hush had spread itself across the whole world, and even the birds had fallen silent. Emlyn felt the tranquillity spreading through himself. 'Goodbye, ma,' he whispered, and bent down to gently brush that cold, withered cheek with his lips. Then he turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

* * *

The flames were dazzlingly bright and he could feel the skin of his face tight with the heat while his back was cooled by the night air. But it was only the smoke that made Emlyn's eyes water. The feeling of peace was still strongly with him. It wasn't his mother lying on the pyre. She'd gone to a place where there was no hunger or hardship.

At least, he fervently hoped so. He'd been taught that as a child. He'd never been sure… But in the mild calm of the summer night, it seemed a viable option.

The fire was crackling eagerly and burning higher and higher as it consumed the sun-dried wood he and Tynan had collected. In the villages down on the coast they would be able to see it, he knew, and know of his mother's death. If there were any good folk left among them – and there must be some, the old fisherfolk who would never leave the homes where they had been born – they would pray for his mother's soul tonight, as he and his parents had always remembered to pray when they saw a flame down below. And that was as it should be, for in these dark times who was untouched by death?

He heard Tynan's soft footsteps as the ranger came up behind him. For a while they stood in silence, feeling the heat beat upon their face as the flames danced. Then Tynan said, quietly, 'You know, even after everything I've seen it still seems strange to me to burn the dead.'

Emlyn threw him a quizzical look. 'Why, what do you do in Wayrin?'

'Lay them in the ground, so that gradually they become one again with Iluen.'

Emlyn frowned, momentarily distracted. 'What? But don't they… Walk?'

Tynan shook his head, his eyes still on the leaping flames and the silent figure they enshrouded. 'No. I've seen Shara and I've been in Eldavir, and nowhere have I seen any place where the spirits of the dead cannot find their way to the Gates. No place but the Islands.'

'Oh yes, I remember.' Emlyn stared into the fire also. The smell of woodsmoke was hanging in the air, and with it the acrid stench of burnt flesh, and Emlyn's vision blurred, obscuring the still figure at the dark heart of the blaze. The Dead that Walk was the particular curse of the free Isles, though he had forgotten it of late, that difficulty obscured in Goldisle's more pressing troubles.

He cleared his throat of the smoke, blinking. 'I've got to take her to Graveisle. There isn't anyone else.'

'And after that?'

'I don't know.'

There was a pause, and then Tynan said, with a touch of hesitation in his voice, 'If you'd like to come with us, Emlyn, you could.'

'Us?'

'Myself, and – a friend. An elf. He's staying in Goldport for now. He didn't want to intrude in family affairs.'

'I don't know any elves…' said Emlyn, irrelevantly, staring into the fire, the blazing whites and reds dazzling his vision. 'But then, I suppose I don't really know very many humans either…'

Tynan was silent. Somewhere in the darkness behind him, Emlyn could hear the coughing bark of a fox. Once, he would have moved to drive it from his lands, but now the fox was welcome to the earthy banks and whatever prey it could find. There was no danger to the chickens any more. There were no chickens any more…

Above him in the sky, the stars were blazing with a harder and colder light than the fire. The wolf star hung low over the horizon in its diamond brightness.

'I'd like that, I think, Tynan,' Emlyn said, at last. 'If you'd have me.'


	3. Goldport

_Fifth day after Sun's Height, year 30016 DC_

It wasn't a long way to Goldport, in a straight line, but the only road skirted the base of the hills, a good ten miles round, and Tynan and Emlyn wanted to reach the port in time to find a ship going to Graveisle tonight, so they began early, as the first flush of dawn began to lighten the sky to the east. Emlyn was used to rising before dawn for the farm work; but when he awakened in the cold, grey twilight he had been unsurprised to find Tynan up before him, fully dressed in armour and calmly laying out what little food the farm had left for their breakfast.

They'd eaten together with few words, and then Emlyn had gone to the old cupboard in the corner, that neither he nor his mother had touched since his father had died. He'd packed the few things he valued or thought he would find useful the night before – but some things were too important just to pack. Carefully, gently, he'd drawn out his father's armour and the greatsword Gavan Ulmer had carried when he came home from his own adventuring – twenty years in the past now, before he'd married Marisa and settled down to a farmer's life.

When he was small, Emlyn had never understood that part of the story, where his father put away his sword and armour in that cupboard and gave up the fighting and the adventure, but as he walked away from the farm he began to think he might know, one day. _One day_, he promised himself. _When I'm old and tired of fighting, I'll come back_. Then he thought of Goldisle, rotten Goldisle with its cruelty and its hardship, and qualified his statement. _Maybe I'll come back_.

As they walked away the blackbird began to sing behind them to welcome the dawn, and Emlyn caught his step. _This may be the last time I ever hear that…_

But he straightened his shoulders under the unfamiliar drag of the armour and strode forwards at his cousin's side. At their feet the rising sun painted their shadows ahead of them on the road with hard black brushstrokes. Emlyn could see his own figure, silhouette bulked out by the armour, the hilt of his sword rising proudly above his right shoulder, and knew that he looked every inch the warrior.

In his arms he cradled the cold pottery urn that contained the last remnants of his mother's body.

* * *

Emlyn could smell the sea as they descended and began to curve round the base of the hills. The slight breeze threw the salty tang into his nostrils, and reminded him again how small the island actually was. He could see bright water glinting barely a couple of miles away, and yet for his whole life it had been a special treat to visit the fishing village of Almuth for market…

Almuth was receding into the distance behind them now, but not fast enough for Emlyn's taste. He was painfully aware that his cousin had slackened his natural pace to match Emlyn's own speed. His armour wasn't too heavy, but it was impeding his movement and slowing his walking speed. _Still,_ he thought, _there's no hurry. Better slow now than dead later on_.

Tynan walked with an easy, swinging motion, as though he was used to covering the miles, and he looked around as he did so, noting the lie of the land and the landmarks. Emlyn watched him enviously. _One day I'll be able to do that…_

He studied his cousin as he walked. Tynan was older than him – ten years, if Emlyn was remembering right – and those extra years had left their mark on him. Tynan wasn't a tall man, but he was well-muscled and the two swords hanging at his waist had seen a great deal of use. His dark hair was cropped close to his head and his skin was – like Emlyn's own – burnt brown by the summer sun. Emlyn could see that his cousin was wearing his armour like a second skin, and it was that which really brought home to him how used Tynan was to a life where combat and danger were always just around the corner.

Excitement shivered up his spine. Now that was going to be his life too…

'What day is it?' Tynan asked.

'Huh? Er… fifth after Sun's Height. I think. Thereabouts.'

'Hmm. Nowhere near a quarter day. So I'm thinking these toughs heading towards us probably aren't legitimate tax collectors…'

'What?' Emlyn's head snapped round to face the road in front of him again.

Tynan was right. The group just rounding a corner of the road and heading towards them had 'tax-gatherer' written all over them. There were three of them, all human. The two at the back were the toughs Tynan had mentioned, dirty chain mail and ragged appearance not camouflaging the fact that their hands remained near their sword hilts. They were a mismatched pair, one a short but broad-shouldered man with a scowl on his face and the other taller and fairer.

The man in front didn't look much like a fighter. He was slightly overweight, puffing and pink-faced as he walked down the road in the hot sun. His clothes were as greasy and grimy as the other two, but they looked as though they had once been fine fabrics. It was his face that got to Emlyn. He had piggy little eyes, and behind fleshy cheeks they were glinting with greed.

Emlyn shifted the urn into the crook of his left arm and put his right hand on the knife in his belt. 'People who call themselves tax collectors can turn up at any time now,' he told Tynan, quietly. 'No one is sure where the money and tithes _go_, but they keep demanding more.'

Tynan nodded acknowledgement as the two groups grew closer together, but contented himself with a practical comment. 'Don't draw unless I do first.'

The tax-gatherer and his guards were taking up the whole road as they approached. Tynan stepped aside onto the grassy verge, Emlyn following his lead, and attempted to walk past the men, but the fat, red-faced man stopped. 'Who goes there?' he asked.

Emlyn gritted his teeth. He could see the man's eyes flickering over him and Tynan, assessing the value of their armour and clothing and speculating on the probable contents of their packs.

Tynan didn't seem bothered by it. 'I'm Tynan and that's Emlyn,' he said, coolly. 'We're heading for the city.' He looked directly at the man with hard eyes, and added softly, 'Bothering us would cost much more than you're paid for.'

The dark, scowling warrior growled and Emlyn heard the scraping ring as he began to drag his sword from its sheathe. He tightened his hand around his knife, wishing he had both hands free to draw his sword. His blood was boiling as he anticipated the fight. Goldisle would be a better place without these parasites…

But, belying his slovenly appearance, the tax-collector made a quick restraining movement of his hand. 'No, we wouldn't want to bother these good people,' he said, giving Tynan a fake, toothy smile. 'Good day to you, sirs. We'll be on our way.'

The warrior growled again, slamming his weapon back into its scabbard. As he turned to follow his boss down the road, he spat on the ground, glowering at them. Emlyn leapt forwards, his dagger beginning to clear its sheath, when Tynan's hand clamped down firmly around his wrist.

The warrior turned a contemptuous shoulder and followed his allies, and Emlyn turned to his cousin, furious. 'What was that for?'

'Keep your voice down, you don't want them to hear that we're having a disagreement.' Tynan released Emlyn's wrist. 'I didn't want to fight them.'

'Why not? They're no loss to the world.'

Tynan shrugged. 'It's true. But what good would it do to kill them?'

'It'd make me feel better, for a start!'

'Emlyn, you can't kill people just because it would make you feel better!'

Emlyn sighed. 'All right. But it would make things a lot better for the starving people they're off to rob blind.'

'For the moment, yes. But there are hundreds of men just like those ones, and if we killed these, some more would be along in a few days.' Tynan shrugged again, and Emlyn caught the hint of hopelessness in his voice. 'The only way anyone's going to solve Goldisle's problems is from the top, and we aren't strong enough to take out the top.'

Emlyn clenched his fists for a second, then sheathed his dagger. 'All right. You win this time. Come on.'

He turned, and Tynan fell into step beside him as Emlyn plunged up the road.

By the time the younger man's furious pace had slackened somewhat, they had rounded the corner of the road and Goldport was in sight ahead of them. Emlyn stopped, shading his eyes against the dazzling glare of the sunlight reflected from the sea, and looked towards the city.

Goldport was a small city judged against the standards of Wayrin or Shara, but it was among the largest on the Islands, and had once been considered one of the most rich, kindly and beautiful. Now it was the blot among the famed ports… Emlyn could see the buildings, black and dirty, sprawling right down to the waterside.

Out in the ocean a ship was anchored, her bare masts startling in their blackness against the deep blue sky. Emlyn whistled appreciatively. He wasn't much of a seaman – but he was still an Islander born and bred. 'Look at her lines! That's a ship built at Haven, or I'm blind.'

'Is it?' Tynan looked at the schooner with interest. 'But under a bad master now, or she'd not be here…'

'I wonder if her captain's thinking of heading out?' Emlyn said, half under his breath. 'Now she'd be a lovely vessel to sail in down to Graveisle…'

'What was that?' asked Tynan, as he started walking again. 'Come on, let's try and make it as far as the city before it gets too hot. You think she'd be heading south?'

'It's too hot already,' Emlyn grumbled, shrugging sweaty shoulders under his armour. But he was used to ignoring the discomfort of working in the sun, and he answered Tynan's question. 'Yes, if she's a merchant. Now we're past Sun's Height the trade winds'll be setting in to blow from the north, and blow steady until near Winter's Peak. A merchant can coast down to Shara with goods from the Islands that're still fresh.'

'Isn't it a bit early for that? I don't know a lot about it, but I don't feel anything like a steady north wind.'

Emlyn shrugged. 'Maybe. I'm no sailor, I don't really know.'

Tynan nodded, and dropped the subject.

* * *

They entered Goldport as the sun began to rise towards its zenith. The streets were hot and dusty, and the stench of sewage and decay was so bad that it made Emlyn want to throw up.

'Stick close to me,' Tynan had said, and Emlyn did, remaining tight on his cousin's heels as Tynan led the way through a confusing mass of streets. He'd been to Goldport before, but only once or twice, and always with his father. Nothing seems threatening to a child who's with their father…

But Goldport seemed threatening enough to Emlyn now. People in the streets were hard-eyed, and many were cloaked despite the heat of the day. The buildings were dirty and in disrepair, with rotten and gaping shutters. Everywhere he could see graffiti – what he guessed were gang signs – and when he looked he could see that many people had the same signs brightly daubed on armour or shields. One icon caught his eye, as a gang of seven or eight toughs swaggered down the street, forcing other citizens onto the pavement – a bright red coloured sword. They were all human, a contrast to the varied sizes, shapes and colours otherwise filling the overshadowed streets. That gang was unusual, he found. Normally behaviour like that resulted in shouted curses and drawn weapons, but this group hustled people aside with impunity. Emlyn kept his head down and avoided eye contact, making a mental note. The gang with the symbol of the red sword were powerful… The whole atmosphere of the town was so hostile that he could hardly breathe.

Everyone wore weapons. Even when they passed a group of ragged, barefoot children racing down the street, Emlyn could see that not a single one was without a dagger at their belt. And no one seemed afraid to draw a knife either. The hubbub of the city was punctuated by raised, snarling voices, and once, as the clattering racket of a cart rumbling by died away into silence, Emlyn could hear the sharp clashing of steel and harsh voices cheering on what was obviously a street fight.

'Nearly there.' Tynan's voice was neutral, but Emlyn had the feeling that his cousin hated these filthy, violent streets as much as he did.

Emlyn followed Tynan out of a shadowy street into an open square, blinking in the sudden light. Then he frowned. To his right, a broad street ran straight downwards towards the sea. Looking down it, Emlyn could see hustling, noisy crowds, street traders, and the glint of water in the harbour at the base.

But the square that he and Tynan were standing in was completely deserted.

A chill feeling fingering his spine, Emlyn turned his head to his left.

* * *

The building that had once stood at the head of the square was now nothing more than a heap of rubble.

The stones were tumbled across the square like the building blocks of a giant's child. They were blackened and scorched, and some had shattered under the force with which they had hit the ground, stone fragments sprayed across the paving stones like black sand. It crunched under Emlyn's boots as he cautiously approached.

The chill feeling got stronger as he came closer. The building had been destroyed so thoroughly that Emlyn could make no guess as to its previous function. He swallowed nervously. It took real hatred to raze a building that completely. That, or dark magic. Or both…

He'd heard Tynan's quiet footsteps on the huge, old paving stones that floored the square, and knew that his cousin had followed him over. 'All these stones…' Emlyn said. 'I've seen enough buildings here in need of repair. Why haven't they taken these stones long ago?'

'They are afraid,' said a quiet voice he didn't know.

Emlyn swore and jumped round, a hand flying to the hilt of his dagger. 'Who are you?'

The first thing he noticed about the person who'd startled him so much was a pale, impassive face, and bright, intelligent black eyes. He had to look down almost a foot to meet that sharp gaze, and that and the almond-shaped, slanted eyes told him he was looking at an elf before he noticed the delicate pointed ears.

Tynan was standing a little way off, looking sadly at the ruined building, but his head had also snapped round when Emlyn yelled. 'It's all right, Emlyn,' he called, raising his voice slightly, and he began walking over towards them. 'He's with us.'

'Right, fine,' muttered Emlyn, annoyed at being taken by surprise. 'I'm Emlyn Ulmer, Tynan's cousin. And you're…?'

'I'm called Shadow, Emlyn Ulmer.'

Emlyn was puzzled. He'd never imagined Tynan's friend and companion as someone who had a reason to keep their real name concealed. Then again, he'd never really imagined an elf like Shadow...

The elf's wavy, black hair was long, hanging past his shoulders, but drawn back away from his face. Emlyn could see a glint of green in his eyes now, but it was such a dark colour that he could understand how he'd first mistaken it for black. Quite tall by the standards of his race, Shadow wore a chainmail shirt so well made that it made no noise as he moved. The fine links had been blackened so that they had no hint of a gleam. It was the armour of someone who wanted to pass unnoticed, and the blade hanging at the elf's right side was a narrow, flexible rapier.

Tynan clasped the elf's hand briefly. 'Good to see you again, Shadow. Emlyn's going to be joining us for a while.'

'How long's a while?'

'I don't know. You were only going to stick around for a while – how long's it been?'

One corner of Shadow's mouth curled upwards. 'That kind of a while?' He looked over at Emlyn. 'I can see I'll have to get used to having you around.'

Emlyn hoped that was supposed to be a joke. He smiled faintly, and changed the subject. 'What were you saying about this place?' He gestured at the ruin. 'What is it?'

Tynan answered him. 'It was a temple.'

'Oh.' Emlyn looked round. 'I knew that the temples were knocked down, of course…' He shivered suddenly. 'I just never… I guess I didn't know what it would be like.'

'It was the temple of Arcaren and Amarill,' said Tynan. He was gazing at the wreckage sadly. 'I never saw it. I never came to the islands until ten years ago, and it was long gone by then. But it was supposed to be very beautiful.'

'The locals are scared of the place,' Shadow said. He shrugged. 'I've been asking around while you were gone, Tynan, and even the black-hearted are scared of the power that was here. They don't know what kind of retribution sacrilege like this might provoke.'

Emlyn looked back at the ruin, suddenly wanting to get away. He didn't blame those who kept well clear of the place. The eerie feeling in the air was getting stronger and the hair on his back was beginning to stand upright.

'Come on,' said Tynan. 'We need to find a boat.'


	4. A Shadow of Doubt

_Sixth day after Sun's Height, year 30016 DC_

Emlyn bit his lip, squinting against the glare of the sun as he looked out over the sea, the stong fishy smell of the docks filling his nostrils so that his nose wrinkled without his conscious decision. He was beginning to have second thoughts about his decision to join Tynan and Shadow.

Not second thoughts about Tynan. Only Shadow.

The elf was too… quiet. He made no sound when he moved, and when he spoke he… Emlyn struggled to express his feelings. Shadow talked, but he didn't convey information. Emlyn had tried to get to know the elf a little, but he knew he'd failed. He had made an effort to talk to the elf, but he hadn't _learned_ anything. Shadow was slipppery, illusive.

_Secretive_. The word slipped darkly into Emlyn's mind. Emlyn distrusted secrecy. It suggested that there was something that needed concealing.

And the worst thing was that he was sure that Shadow knew all about his frustration. He _knew_ the elf was a lot smarter than him, and suspected him of laughing at him behind his unreadable face. Or sneering, perhaps.

Emlyn couldn't help it. He didn't like Shadow. And he didn't trust him.

But Tynan did. Emlyn scowled in frustration, clenching his fists into balls. And Tynan knew Shadow far better than he did. Even Emlyn could see that Tynan and Shadow had the comfortable relationship of old friends who know nearly everything that there is to know about each other's habits and thoughts. For the moment, Emlyn decided, he would stick with it. He would trust Tynan to know what was best.

That decided, he felt a bit better. Emlyn shuffled his feet on the rough stone of the harbour, shifting his grip on the urn still cradled in the crook of his left arm and shaking his head to try and be rid of the stench. He looked around, but Tynan and Shadow were still in negotiations with the huge, black-bearded captain of a ketch which they hoped would transport them to Graveisle. Emlyn sighed. They were still stuck on Goldisle. He'd – they'd – hoped to leave the whole filthy, rotten mess on the previous day, but transport had proved harder to find than any of them had anticipated.

Emlyn set his shoulders against the jostle of the crowd on the quayside, and lifted his eyes again to look out over the sea. The schooner he'd seen on the previous day from the road was much closer now, riding gently to anchor in the deep channel outside the port, and he ran his eyes again over her smooth lines. Anchoring out there, it looked as though her captain wanted her at readiness all the time, without his crew distracted by the boisterous waterfront alehouses or the less reputable establishments on Goldport's backstreets. Goldport boasted deep-water berths in its harbour, and a glance over the harbour showed him that they weren't all full, so it wasn't necessary for that lovely ship to be anchored all the way out there… Idly, Emlyn scanned the docks, wondering if he could spot a dinghy that might belong to her captain.

* * *

'It's a deal, then,' said Tynan, shaking the dark captain's hand. 'Two gold pieces each for three of us to get to Graveisle.'

'I still say it's robbery,' muttered Shadow, but his friend ignored him.

'When can we leave?'

'Whenever you want,' grunted the surly man. 'And you tell your elvish lackey to keep 'is mouth shut. There's none as'll do better by you than me an' my ol' girl.'

Shadow regarded the sea captain with an amused eye, but kept his mouth shut, not even moving a muscle at the insult. Tynan knew he was laughing inside his head at the man who was trying to get a rise out of more than a hundred years of experience.

Tynan knew that people thought Shadow had no feelings, but he was never deceived. He'd known Shadow before the veneer of cynicism and disdain had been constructed as a barrier against the world…

'If you make ready to leave then, captain, we'll just pick up the third member of our company, and we'll go straight away.'

And he knew what mattered to Shadow, Tynan thought, as they turned away to stroll back up the quay to where Emlyn was waiting. His cousin was talking to a little old man who was dressed as a sailor, a flat cap perched on his wild white hair. 'You're not making things easy for yourself with Emlyn, you know,' Tynan remarked, so quietly that even in the bustling crowd of the harbour only Shadow could hear him.

Shadow lifted dark brows. 'Oh? I never realised I should be making an effort to appear other than I am in order to obtain his goodwill.'

Tynan sighed. 'I don't say you have to, Shadow – damn it, I don't say anything of the sort, and well you know it! But you aren't helping things along by playing to stereotype.'

'I don't play anything, Tynan.' Shadow's voice was hard, but his friend could hear the pleading behind it as he continued. 'If he's got it in him to look beyond the surface than he will, whatever I do. And if he hasn't –'

'And if he hasn't?'

'I don't know,' Shadow muttered. 'If he hasn't, I don't think he and I can travel together for very long.'

Tynan looked round at the elf. 'Give him time, Shadow. Emlyn's not very old. He's still learning.'

'I hope so.' Shadow didn't sound very convinced.

Tynan laid a hand on his arm. 'Kyr.' The elf turned to look at his friend, and met the gaze of sincere dark eyes. 'Things will come out all right, if it's in my power to make it happen. I promise you.'

The ranger turned and went onwards through the crowds, but Shadow stopped, his opaque eyes suddenly deep pools of pain. To himself he whispered, 'But what if this time it's not in your power, Tynan?'

* * *

'Looking at the _Wave Dancer_, lad?' 

'Is that her name? Yes.' Emlyn had been aware for some time of the aged and weatherbeaten man perched on a mooring bollard beside him. The old man's face was creased and crinkled all over like old parchment, and a pipe was clamped firmly in his mouth between crooked and black teeth, sending up a strong, pungent odour. An old sailor, Emlyn had assumed, observing how he watched the bustle of the quayside with an expert eye.

'No it ain't, not these days.' The old man sighed. 'But that's what she were called when she first put in here. Under old Hedren Ewerd she were in those days. Now _he_ were a sailor…'

'Out of the shipyards at Haven?'

'Aye. She's quite new, too. One of Corin Torkilsson's, no less.' The old man squinted up at Emlyn and smiled. 'O'course, what's quite new to me seems a long time ago to you, I make no doubt… You know a good vessel when you see one, lad, for all you're no sailor. Are you alone?'

'No. My companions are trying to find us a passage.'

'That's good,' nodded the sailor. 'You wouldn't want to be alone, here. Actually, I'd watch yourself, lad. You're standing there, not seeming to care or notice when you're jostled… If you had any valuables on you, I'd check you still have them.'

'I haven't,' said Emlyn, indifferently. Glancing down the waterfront, he saw Tynan apparently come to an agreement with the little ketch's captain, for they shook hands, and Tynan and Shadow turned and began to walk towards him. He raised a hand to acknowledge them, but they were engaged in some kind of deep discussion and he didn't think that they saw him. 'I have to go.'

'You're leaving the Island?'

'Yes. I…' Emlyn gently touched the urn under his arm with his right hand.

The old sailor dipped his head in sympathy, but asked, 'And you're coming back, when you've visited Graveisle?'

Emlyn looked around. A shrill argument had broken out a little along the quay over the goods some trader was hawking. The strong sun was intensifying the stinks of sewage and rotten fish. He could still feel the menacing aura of the city. Even the little old man talking to him was wearing a sword at his side…

The bile rose in Emlyn's throat. 'No,' he said. 'I'm not coming back.'

The old man sighed, looking out over the sea with sad eyes. 'And so it goes,' he said softly, half to himself. 'Another good man leaves. I think the Huntress is fighting a losing battle…'

Emlyn hesitated, intrigued but unwilling to keep Tynan waiting. 'What's your name?' he asked, impulsively.

The sailor turned his eyes back to Emlyn, slightly startled. 'I'm Garrow Seaheart.'

'Thank you. I'm Emlyn Ulmer. I…' Emlyn gestured helplessly with his free right hand. 'I have to go.'

'A fair wind for your journey, then, Emlyn Ulmer.'

'Thanks. You too.' Emlyn paused for a second, not sure what to do, then turned and walked down towards where Tynan and Shadow were waiting.

* * *

Standing in the bow of the ketch to keep out of the way, Emlyn planted his feet widely apart as the little ship rocked in the waves. A lingering odour of fish hung about her, and he guessed her four-man crew were fishermen by trade – at least when nothing more profitable presented itself.

There was a little more wind out in the channel between Goldisle and the Inner Isles than there had been on the Island itself. The ketch slipped downwind, her sails spread wide to catch the breeze, slowly gathering speed.

As they passed the _Wave Dancer_, Emlyn looked up at the elegant schooner curiously. The section of hull which had once held her name had been scraped bare. In its place was a crudely painted symbol that Emlyn recognised from the city – a red sword. The fighter frowned. Now that was strange… He'd known that the gang who used that symbol were powerful, but he'd thought they were just another gang. The _Wave Dancer_ seemed to be telling him something else…

He shook his head, cross with himself. He was leaving. None of this was his concern any more.

_Or is it?_ he thought. He could still hear the sadness in the old sailor's voice, and it brought vividly to mind his own doubts on leaving the farm. Maybe he should return…

And maybe he never would. His mother's ashes were cold in the urn under his arm.


	5. Graveisle

_Sixth day after Sun's Height, year 30016 DC_

Ensa laid down the quill, flexing her stubby fingers to ease the strain of a delicate task they weren't well suited to carry out, and looked out of the window. She shook out her broad shoulders, surprised at how stiff she was. Perhaps she'd been sitting hunched up over her work too long…

From the little guest room she'd been allocated she could see out across the monastery courtyard and the roofs of the other buildings in the complex to the gleaming sea beyond. As she watched, a small boat sailed into that patch of blue. _Coming here, perhaps_, she thought. _Islanders, most like, come to bury their dead_.

With that thought, Ensa frowned. That was what she'd originally come to Graveisle to study – the Dead that Walk and the mystery of why. But the records and knowledge stored in the temple of Ebraxos had proved too intriguing…

Maybe it was time she got back to her original project. Ensa pushed aside the notes she'd been making and began leafing through the papers on the desk carefully, trying not to crush the papers with her broad fingers, looking for her original researches.

Behind her she could hear Star rustling round the room, radiating intense curiosity and pleasure. Ensa smiled. She was as happy as the rat. A place full of fascinating information and records, where she and Star were left in peace to work. A place where no one cared about her heritage and she didn't have to keep her intelligence and her interests hidden.

The monastery and temples dedicated to the Lords of Knowledge and the Dead were Ensa's idea of heaven.

She flipped through her notes. Oh, yes… she remembered why she'd abandoned that line of research. She'd needed to go out into the graveyard to investigate further, and there had been no appropriate party for her to join. She'd asked to be kept informed about when she might be able to make the journey, but it wouldn't surprise her if the Abbot had forgotten about her. Certainly neither monks nor priests ever bothered her, or really seemed to notice her existence at all. That was the way Ensa liked it. But she'd have to ask Sabra how often parties went out into the graveyard…

Ensa glanced up again at the window. That little boat was much closer now, definitely heading for Graveisle's diminuative docks…

She climbed to her feet, scooping up her staff from where it lay propped against the wall. 'Come on, Star.' She bent down, extending a hand towards the large brown rat. Star's whiskers twitched and her bright eyes twinkled at Ensa, then she stepped onto the outstretched hand and scurried up Ensa's arm to ensconce herself on her mistress' shoulder, half-hidden under Ensa's stringy brown hair.

Ensa smiled again, then opened the door of the quiet little study and, ducking her head under the crooked lintel, stepped out into the monastery.

* * *

A young woman had walked down from the monastery to meet them at the port, catching the ropes thrown by the sailors and making them fast on the bollards of the tiny stone quay.

She waited silently while Tynan paid the captain. The ketch cast off again, her sails close hauled as she tacked upwind on her way back to Goldport, but Emlyn didn't watch her go. His eyes were on the still woman waiting for them.

She was of an average height, with deep brown eyes, and fiery red hair that had been confined in a tight braid and wrapped around her head. Emlyn would usually have associated a flaming temper with hair like that, but this woman radiated stillness and self-control. She was dressed simply, in poor clothes, and her feet were bare on the dusty stone.

'Welcome to Graveisle,' she said, quietly. 'I am Sabra, a monk of the Grey Path.' She bowed to them, and Tynan followed suit.

'I'm Tynan Orn. This is my companion Shadow, and my cousin Emlyn Ulmer.' Tynan waved for Emlyn to come forwards. 'It's really Emlyn we're here for.'

Sabra looked round at Emlyn enquiringly, but her eyes alighted at once on the urn he was carrying. She smiled sympathetically, but her only comment was a practical one. 'You'd better come up to the monastery and speak to the Abbot. I shouldn't think it will be possible to enter the graveyard today.'

As Sabra led the way up the narrow path towards the monastery complex, Emlyn looked around with interest. Graveisle was a rocky island, and the way up from the water's edge was steep and winding. Soon the sea was far below them, breaking against the rocks all around the tiny, sheltered harbour with a white frill of foam.

His muscles protesting the strain of the steep path, Emlyn followed the others up and back onto the flat. Ahead of him Emlyn could see the group of buildings that made up the Monastery of the Grey Path. Beyond them, the cliff rose up again to even greater heights, but Emlyn knew that this flat plateau was their immediate destination. Facing each other across the main courtyard were two lofty stone buildings that matched each other stone for stone – twin temples for twin gods. On Emlyn's right, the temple of Ebraxos had an air of quiet dignity, of musty parchments and ancient knowledge. To the left, the building dedicated to Karaxin exuded an aura of sombre heaviness.

The third building, directly facing then as they entered the courtyard, was the one which Sabra led them towards. It looked as though it had once been a small building which had grown and spread, spawning towers, courtyards and wings as it went, which dwarfed the grey stone core. Emlyn smiled as he stepped across the uneven cobblestones, amused by the sprawling mess of windows and fine slate rooftops everywhere. It was like no other building he'd ever seen.

Tynan, walking beside their guide, had seen buildings in that style before, but never in the Islands. Baking in the scorching sunshine, the Monastery of the Grey Path reminded him of nothing so much as a building from one of Shara's southern cities.

Entering behind Sabra, Emlyn could see that the inside of the building was as much of a shambles as the outside. As she led them down a narrow, twisting corridor and up a stair, he could see other corridors, doors and stairways leading away at seemingly random intervals.

Emlyn could hear a door closing somewhere in the building, and faint and far off he could hear the clacking of wood striking wood in a regimented rhythm, which he knew must represent a combat drill. The deep hush of the monastery, with its faint odour of old parchments and the cool air of its narrow, dark corridors, was stealing over Emlyn. It was as great a contrast to the menacing, shouting crowds of Goldport as could be imagined, and the young fighter felt his tensed muscles beginning to relax. Occasionally they passed priests, garbed in their traditional dark blue or black and silver robes, or simply dressed monks going about their own business. Beyond an occasional curious look or a nod of greeting to Sabra, none seemed concerned with them, and none spoke to them.

So he was taken entirely by surprise when a door opened, revealing a glimpse of a twisting stairway beyond, and the large figure in the doorway said, 'Sabra?'

Emlyn was at the back of the group, but he was easily the tallest person there so he was able to see comfortably over his companions' heads to inspect the new arrival. The woman wasn't as large as she seemed on first impressions – she was a good few inches shorter than Emlyn, but her broad shoulders and thickset figure had deceived his eyes for a second. She was wearing a thick, brown robe, and carried a quarterstaff, but it was her face that Emlyn looked at, his eyes narrowing in unconcious antagonism.

The woman had watery, yellow-brown eyes. The brown hair straggling over her shoulders was thin and stringy. And the grey-green pigment of her skin and her coarse, jutting features betrayed her ancestry even to Emlyn, who had never seen an orc.

'Ensa.' Sabra's greeting, like everything about the monk, was quiet, calm and unruffled.

'I was wondering…' The half-orc's gravelly voice was hesitant. She looked round, including Tynan, Shadow and Emlyn in her speech. 'I'm Ensa Dragontongue. I was wondering if you were going into the graveyard, and if you would object to my accompanying you?'

There was a slight, surprised pause before Tynan answered. 'I imagine we will be going into the graveyard.' He look at Sabra for confirmation and received a slight nod. 'As for your accompanying us…' Tynan looked round at his companions. Shadow shrugged, and Tynan raised his eyes to his cousin's.

Emlyn was gratified. It was clear that Tynan wouldn't allow Ensa to join their group without his support. His first instinct was to deny it – but after all, what harm could it do? He shrugged too.

Tynan smiled, and turned back to the half-orc. 'I see no reason why not.' He paused. 'Forgive my curiosity, but – why do you wish to enter the graveyard?'

'I'm something of a scholar, studying the Dead that Walk,' Ensa explained. Emlyn's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief, and he must have moved or shifted slightly, because Ensa looked round at him and caught the astonished look. Emlyn felt the heat rise to his face, but Ensa was already turning back to Tynan. Emlyn wasn't well versed in half-orc facial expressions, but he thought that she looked hurt. 'According to the records here, there's a ghost of a long dead wizard in the graveyard, who was reputed to be a great expert on the subject,' Ensa continued, as if nothing had happened, 'and Sabra tells me he's quite easy to find and not malevolent. I was hoping to be able to speak with him.'

Tynan turned to Sabra, 'Which puts me in mind of something. Is it dangerous to enter the graveyard? I would've assumed it was fairly safe, but everyone seems so cautious…'

Sabra hesitated. 'It's usually safe enough. But…' She shook her head. 'Come up to see the Abbot. He can explain this much better than me.'

'Lead on,' Tynan gestured forwards, and fell into step behind the monk as she moved off. Shadow and Emlyn followed, and Ensa waited politely until they had all passed before following at the back.

Attempting to atone for his earlier mistake, Emlyn glanced back towards her and asked, 'So who is this wizard you're hoping to speak to?'

Ensa looked a little surprised that he had chosen to address her, but answered readily enough, 'The name was Shadryan Eladrissinel.'

'The Sage of Northisle!' Emlyn stopped, turning round completely in his surprise. 'Really? I had no idea his ghost Walked…'

Then he received another shock. Now he was close to Ensa he could see a brown lump on her shoulder. He blinked, and the object resolved itself into an animal – a rat, with its claws dug into the fabric of Ensa's robes and its beady eyes glinting at him.

'Are you all right?' asked Ensa.

Emlyn shook his head. 'Oh, yes, sorry. I only just noticed…' He pointed at the rat.

Ensa smiled, and reached up to stroke the rat's head with one gentle finger. 'This is Star. My familiar.'

Emlyn blinked again. 'You're a magic user? I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I didn't think…'

'That half-orcs were very interested in magic?' There was an odd note in Ensa'a voice, but Emlyn couldn't work out what it signified. 'Most aren't. I am.' Without giving Emlyn a chance to say anything else, she nodded past him down the corridor. 'Go on. If we get left behind we're bound to get lost.'

'Right, yes,' said Emlyn. He turned and hurried down the corridor to catch up with the rest of the group.

* * *

The Abbot was a grave, serious man, who watched them with intelligent eyes while they introduced themselves. He had risen to his feet as Sabra ushered them in to his study, so that he towered over even Emlyn, smoothing down his immaculate black and silver robes, and waited quietly while Tynan briefly outlined their purpose.

The Abbot nodded at Tynan's explanation and smiled sympathetically at Emlyn. 'Certainly it's what we're used to here. However, we're having slight difficulties… at the moment, I wouldn't be available to accompany you.'

'How does this affect us?'

'I hope it doesn't. You should be aware that while the graveyard is relatively safe, we do from time to time get the Dead who Walk. As you may know, I'm gifted by my god with the power to repel them, and as a general rule we don't allow visitors to enter the graveyard without my escort.' He looked round the whole group. 'You look like you can take care of yourselves, and I would have no hesitation about giving you access to the graveyard, but you should be aware that if you do have problems you will have to fight your own way out.'

Tynan regarded the Abbot with sincere respect. He hadn't realised that he was talking to a true cleric. He nodded and looked round. 'Shadow?'

The elf considered the proposition for a while, then nodded. 'Since we probably won't meet trouble, I don't see why not.'

'Emlyn?'

'I've got to.' Instinctively, he brushed his fingers across the smooth, cold surface of the urn. He couldn't think of his mother in there, but he knew what was owed to her remnants.

Tynan nodded. 'And I'm for it. Ensa, are you still coming with us?'

The half-orc nodded. 'I'm no cleric, but I have spells to handle weak undead.'

'Excellent.' Tynan smiled at her, and then turned back to the Abbot. 'I think we're decided. We'll go into the graveyard. But I have to admit, I've not been to Graveisle before, and I'm not perfectly sure what the arrangements are within the graveyard…'

The Abbot smiled understandingly. 'I wouldn't expect you to. I'll assign you a guide, someone who knows the layout.' He turned to Emlyn, and said gently, 'If you'd like your mother's ashes to rest in the temple overnight, I will see to it that the correct ceremonies and prayers are performed.'

'Thank you,' said Emlyn, quietly. In the bustle of Goldport and the constant movement and action since then, the fact of his mother's death had seemed to draw further away, but as the kindly cleric discussed funeral arrangements it was borne in on him with startling intensity that he would never see her again – that she would not be waiting in the doorway when he came in after a long day, or bustling out to feed the chickens while he ate his breakfast. He swallowed down the lump in his throat.

'You won't be able to enter the graveyard before morning,' the Abbot told them. 'Sabra will take you to the guest rooms.'


	6. Final Farewell

_Seventh day after Sun's Height, year 30016 DC_

Tynan looked thoughtfully over his belongings laid out on the bed. Did he need to take everything with him into the graveyard? They should – with good luck they _would_ – not take long over the journey, and not encounter any unforeseen circumstances. He was already wearing his swords and armour, and his bow and quiver were slung across his back. But would he need his bedroll and blanket? On the other hand… Tynan had learnt that it was _never_ a good idea to rely on luck. Even fully packed, his backpack wasn't that heavy. He would take everything.

Capably and swiftly, he packed everything back into the bag, whistling softly between his teeth. He should be heading out to meet the others in the main courtyard. Assuming he could find his way out of this rabbit-warren of a building! Tynan smiled to himself.

There was a knock on the door, and Shadow called, 'Tynan? Are you ready?'

'Nearly. Come in, Shadow.'

The elf opened the door and stepped into the room as Tynan flipped forwards the flap of his rucksack and fastened it shut. He swung his bag up onto his shoulders, and turned round to smile at his friend. 'So, what's going on? Where is everyone?' As an elf, Shadow didn't sleep at all, and he only needed to rest for half as long as a human slept, so it was an established practice between the two that Shadow would scout out a new area and discover anything relevant while Tynan was still sleeping.

'Emlyn is down at the temple, I think. I haven't seen Ensa at all, but I assume she would stay in her room memorising spells even after she woke up, so I wouldn't really… Actually, I don't even know where her room is. It could be anywhere – this place is a maze.'

Tynan grinned. 'We've never faced a maze you couldn't find our way out of, Shadow. Go on – take me down to the courtyard.'

'You're in a good mood.' Shadow remarked, as he obligingly led the way out of the room and down the narrow corridor. There wasn't space for them to walk abreast, so Tynan followed.

'I am,' he agreed. 'No idea why. Tell me, Shadow – what do you think of Ensa?'

The elf thought for a few seconds, padding silently down the stairs. 'She's smart,' he said, after a while.

Tynan frowned. While he _had_ realised that, as a wizard, Ensa must be fairly intelligent, he hadn't thought of it as the leading feature of her character. 'Smarter than you?'

'Almost certainly.'

Tynan considered. He knew that Shadow was much cleverer than he was himself, but the elf was neither proud nor self-deprecating, and Tynan knew he could trust Shadow's judgements. Which meant that Ensa probably was more intelligent than the rogue – which meant she was very intelligent indeed.

Which was unusual, in a half-orc…

'Can we trust her?' he asked.

Shadow pushed open a door and led the way into a wider corridor. Here the early-morning sunlight was streaming in through east-facing windows, and Tynan blinked in the sudden brightness.

'Yes, I would say so,' Shadow answered, eventually. 'I'd have to see more of her to be certain of her general trustworthiness. But for the moment she needs us, so she's not going to try to hurt us. Why would she, anyway?'

Tynan laughed. 'Good question. I'm just getting into suspicious habits.' He glanced down at his elven friend and grinned. 'It must be catching.'

Shadow shot a glance back up at the ranger, mock-angry, but Tynan knew him far too well to fall for that. He saw the brief amused glint in the elf's dark eyes.

* * *

Ensa waited in the main courtyard, a hood pulled up well over her face to protect her dark-adapted eyes from the blazing sunlight. Star, sitting on her shoulder again, sat upright, her tail lashing backwards and forwards and her whiskers twitching as she sniffed the air. Ensa knew that the familiar was picking up on her own excitement.

'Star, we're going to talk to the Loremaster Eladrissinel. Can you imagine…?' she asked. Hidden behind her deep hood, a broad smile spread across the half-orc's face. 'He could tell us all sorts of things!' She wanted to stop there, but thought it only fair to add, regretfully, 'I don't think he will, though. From what I read, we'll be lucky to get a straight answer out of his ghost.'

She often talked to Star. Although the rat wasn't as clever as most people, Ensa knew that her familiar understood the Common tongue, and that she appreciated being kept in the know about what Ensa was up to and why. 'I really hope we'll be able to persuade him to tell us something about the Dead that Walk,' the half-orc continued. 'I don't know… from what I've read of the elf himself, I'm not sure what might convince him to tell us what he knows. But he was supposed to be a bit eccentric. He had no time for anyone who wasn't intelligent and dedicated. I'm hoping to convince him that I am…'

She knew from Star's sudden alert watchfulness that someone was approaching, and turned to see Tynan and Shadow stroll out of the door of the monastery.

The ranger smiled at her good-humouredly as he approached. 'Good morning, Ensa. Isn't it a glorious day?'

'Again,' muttered Shadow, darkly, and received Tynan's elbow in his ribs.

Ensa watched the friendly exchange with a hint of envy, but answered composedly enough. 'Actually, I have to say I function better in the dark or if it's overcast. But I know what you mean. There's something so cheerful about the sunshine.' _Certainly the fact that it means I'm not in the orc caverns…_ she added, silently.

Tynan nodded. 'Have you seen Emlyn? Or any sign of our promised guide?'

'No, I –' Ensa began to say, when she was cut off.

'There.' Shadow nodded towards the temple of Karaxin, whose huge, sombre blackness seemed to soak up the sunlight. Ensa and Tynan turned their heads to see that Emlyn was emerging from between the imposing double doors. The overlapping steel pieces of his armour gleamed like fish scales in the light. As he walked down the three shallow stone steps and began to cross the courtyard towards them, sun glinting off his fair hair, Ensa saw that he was again cradling the urn that contained his mother's ashes.

The half-orc felt that twinge of jealousy again. To have a family who you could love! Her heart clenched. She was genuinely sorry for Emlyn's loss, but she knew with an instinct older than thought that it was better to have loved someone who was dead than never to have had anyone worth loving.

Behind Emlyn, Sabra emerged from the temple, the sunlight striking sparks from her magnificent fiery hair. She followed Emlyn across the uneven cobblestones, and Ensa greeted her with pleasure. 'Sabra! Are you to be our guide to the graveyard?'

'I am,' Sabra confirmed gravely. 'Is everyone ready?'

Tynan looked round the group, receiving confirming nods from Shadow, Emlyn and Ensa, then smiled at Sabra. 'We are. Lead on.'

* * *

Emlyn would have fallen into place at the back again, but Tynan had gestured him up the line. 'In case we do have any trouble,' the ranger had explained. 'I want you and your sword near the front. Even with one hand full, you'll be valuable to help shield Ensa.'

Emlyn had _felt_ Ensa look at him nervously then, as if she wondered how he felt about being a human shield for her, so he turned and gave her a broad smile before following Sabra and Tynan across the courtyard into the space between the temple of Karaxin and the monastery complex.

So Emlyn was in the middle of the line, and his height gave him a clear view as Sabra stopped in front of the rugged cliff. Set into the stone was a locked iron gate, and beyond it a narrow, dark tunnel rose steeply up through the rock.

It wasn't a decorative gate, one of the fancy constructions of elaborately twisted wrought iron that adorned the front walls of noblemen's houses. The solid iron bars that made up the framework were as thick as Sabra's wrists as the monk inserted a large key into the keyhole, using both hands to turn it. This was a gate that was designed to keep people – or things – firmly within.

'One second,' said Tynan, 'Is there much in the dark?'

'The tunnel slopes up and comes out at the top of the island,' Sabra told him. 'We're back outside then. But we'll be visiting both the Goldisle and Northisle crypts, which are underground. There are torches just inside the passageway.'

'Oh, I've got one,' said Tynan. He swung his bag down to the ground and opened the flap, rummaging around inside for a couple of seconds, before drawing his hand back out, closed around the wooden shaft of a torch.

Emlyn couldn't prevent himself gasping as Tynan drew a flaming torch out of his bag, the fire flickering palely in the bright sunshine of the courtyard. His cousin looked up at him with a grin. 'I've had this for years, Emlyn. Have you not seen it before?'

'No. How –?'

'A _continual flame_ spell, I assume,' came Ensa's rasping voice from behind him. 'May I see?'

'Perhaps later, Ensa?' said Tynan. He looked round at them all, briefly. 'Sabra and Emlyn had better stay close to me so we can all benefit from the light. If we get into combat, Ensa, get out of the light if you can so as to make it harder for the enemies to target you. Shadow, you just do your own thing. And watch everyone's back.'

Shadow nodded silently, and Tynan looked round the group, watching for signs of dissent. Seeing none, he swung his rucksack up onto his back. 'Let's go.'

Sabra swung open the gate – it moved silently on well-oiled hinges – and stepped inside. Tynan followed, passing the monk the torch, and then Emlyn, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders, plunged forwards into the dark.

The tunnel probably wasn't totally dark, but after the dazzling sunshine outside it was as black as the darkest night to Emlyn. The group stopped for a while so that Sabra could pass the key back down the line for Shadow to shut and lock the gate behind them, and Emlyn blinked furiously, trying to adjust his eyes to the dimmer, orange light of the torch.

Then they set off up the little tunnel. The rock underfoot was smooth, worn by generations of feet passing this way, and Emlyn could imagine that in winter it would become treacherous with ice and water. The air was very cool, but it felt dry, and Emlyn's fingers, brushing lightly along the rock walls, met no damp patches or mould.

Emlyn soon discovered that he was in the worst position of any of the group. The roof of the tunnel barely cleared six feet, so the tall young man was forced to bend over, and his shoulders filled the narrow space from wall to wall. _If it'd been any narrower I'd've never fitted in!_ he thought with a mixture of amusement and dismay. On top of everything, Tynan was standing in between him and the torch, and the ranger's shadow fell blackly across the ground that Emlyn was going to step on so that once or twice he caught his foot on a sudden raise of the ground and stumbled.

It seemed a long time to Emlyn before they halted again so that Sabra could unlock another iron gate, and then stepped out again into the dazzling daylight. Emlyn had prudently squeezed his eyes down to slits, but even so tears squeezed themselves out between his eyelids as his eyes adjusted to the light, and the heat hit him like a hammer. 'Lord of Courage!' he muttered. 'And I actually thought it wasn't too hot yet!'

Once Emlyn's eyes had adjusted to the light he could look around. Graveisle was a small, bare island, and he could see from end to end of it. The blue glitter of the sea surrounded him, and the huge, dazzling blueness of the sky, unbroken by hills, trees or buildings, enveloped him.

They were standing at the high end of the island, and it sloped down away from them to end in a jagged mess of rocks with the surf pounding against them and spray rising in clouds that split the sunlight into rainbows. Emlyn looked at them with an Islander's eyes and winced. Graveisle was famous as a ship-killing island.

It was only when he'd taken in the island's natural features that Emlyn spotted the tiny grey stone buildings, hardly more than huts, which he realised must shelter entrances to Graveisle's crypts. They were spread across the whole landscape, apparently randomly, and Emlyn glanced around, counting them. Eleven. One for each of the outer Islands, and one – he knew that underground it would be larger than any of the others – for the Inner Isles.

The ground under their feet was sparse, scrubby turf as they followed Sabra forwards, spreading out from their line formation to walk in a more informal group. Emlyn could hear the surf breaking against the rocks, and high above a seagull's mournful cry, but on the island itself nothing stirred.

'I don't see anything at the moment,' Tynan said, quietly.

'The Dead who Walk are deterred by bright sunlight,' Ensa told him. 'It doesn't actually harm most of them, but they don't like it. If there are any here, they'll be down below.'

Emlyn ignored this exchange. He was holding the urn in both hands and following Sabra. He was close on the monk's heels as she led the way into one of the little buildings, and immediately walked down a broad stone staircase, holding the torch high.

It was a deep staircase that seemed to go on for a long time, the shadows created by the torch flickering wildly across rough rock walls. When she finally reached the bottom Sabra – and Emlyn with her – stopped. Standing beside the motionless monk, Emlyn could hear Tynan's and Ensa's footsteps echoing slightly as they descended the staircase, but he paid no attention whatsoever. Emlyn was looking around him with awe.

The crypt consisted of a long chamber, thirty feet wide and at least twenty feet high. It disappeared into the distance ahead of him beyond the range of the torchlight. The walls were formed of grey stone, old and worn, hair-fine cracks running through it. The corners of the floor were coated in the dust and dirt of centuries, but the centre was clear, footprints visible in the dust where other people had walked before him.

'This way,' said Sabra. She walked forwards through the crypt, holding the torch above her head to illuminate as much of the lofty chamber as she could. Emlyn followed her, hearing Tynan and Ensa's footsteps following him.

As they moved away from the entrance of the crypt, Emlyn saw that there were niches carved into the stone walls, layers and layers of them reaching up to the ceiling. In each rested an urn – shapes and sizes and colours varying across the wall. Instinctively, Emlyn walked quietly, watching around him. These were the remains of all the people of Goldisle; all the people who had been his ancestors and his ancestors' friends and neighbours; the whole history of the Isle resting around him.

'Here.' Sabra turned into a side chamber, a round space opening off the great hallway of the crypt. Here Emlyn saw that many of the niches were empty, waiting for urns to be placed within them.

'Anywhere?' he asked.

The monk nodded. 'Anywhere you feel is right.'

'Look, Emlyn.' Tynan had stepped over to the wall, at the edge of the torchlight, and gently brushed the dirt from a very old urn. Underneath, a name had been carved onto the pottery: Lynna Ulmer. 'She could be an ancestor.'

Ensa frowned. 'Of yours? But…'

Tynan looked up at her. 'Well, of Emlyn's too, of course, but… oh, I see. My mother was an Ulmer. Emlyn's father's sister.'

'Oh, I understand.' Ensa nodded.

Emlyn ignored them. He peered at Lynna Ulmer's urn, the ancient, uneven lettering of her name almost crumbling away. Here was the history around him made concrete; a name, a true link to his past…

The next niche along in the ragged row was empty. Emlyn gently placed his mother's urn into it. She could rest next to her husband's ancestress for the rest of eternity; and in years to come, when people came this way they would find Lynna Ulmer and Marisa Ulmer together.

But not Emlyn Ulmer, he suddenly realised, and his eyes filled with involuntary tears. If he left Goldisle now and never returned, he would never be buried here, among his ancestors.

But it was a price worth paying to escape from the corrupt horror that was Goldisle. Emlyn shut his eyes and bowed his head. _This is goodbye, ma_, he said, silently. _I'm off – and I probably won't ever be back_. He swallowed. _Eleven preserve you, wherever you are now. You taught me to believe that the dead are safe and happy beyond the Gate of Eternity, so I hope you were right. Goodbye, ma. I love you_.

He raised his head, and turned back towards his companions. 'Come on,' he said, roughly. 'Let's go.'

* * *

They emerged from the crypt somewhat subdued, filing out into the sunlight. Emlyn, last to leave Goldisle's crypt, kept glancing back, suddenly unsure about his own decision. _Was it worth it? Was it the right thing to do?_ His hands felt empty without the round, smooth shape of the urn he'd been carrying everywhere for the last couple of days.

Suddenly remembering, he unstrapped his sword from his back and belted it around his waist, testing that it was easy enough to draw. It was an unfamiliar drag at his side, but the hilt felt comforting. When he was small, his father had let him hold the sword, struggling to keep its weight from dipping to the floor. Gavan had shown him how it should be used. Emlyn hoped he remembered some of it.

_Yes, it was the right decision_, he thought. _Father and I always said I'd go adventuring some day. It's about time I started_.


	7. A Riddle for Ensa

_Seventh day after Sun's Height, 30016 DC_

Ensa had been fascinated by the glimpse of history visible in the crypt. With her night sight she'd seen much better than the others the general shape of the hallway and rooms – hollowed out of Graveisle's rocky core hundreds of years ago. She'd also been able to pick out the names on urns, spotting the names that were found again and again as generation after generation of some families lived and died on Goldisle. The pattern would be even more obvious if she inspected the crypt of a smaller, more isolated island, she realised. Perhaps it would be worth paying a visit to Whaleisle's crypt…

Then she remembered what she'd come here for. A little bubble of excitement burst inside her stomach, and Star shifted on her shoulder.

'Sabra?' she asked. 'Which is Northisle's crypt?'

The monk inclined her head. 'I'll show you. This way.' She turned and walked down the gentle slope towards the easternmost of the tiny grey buildings that housed the crypts, bright hair blazing in the sun.

Northisle's crypt was even further underground than Graveisle's. Ensa watched her feet as she descended the narrow, worn staircase, only too aware that to trip could be fatal. The crashing of the waves gradually changed into a booming echo as they went down, and Ensa realised excitedly that they were travelling right underneath the sea bed.

But by the time they reached the bottom, the noise of the waves had died away altogether, and they were encased in the deathly hush of the crypt. The cold air smelt faintly dusty, but neither this nor the shadows where the torchlight began to dim bothered Ensa, used to navigating in an underground environment. She peered forwards, where she could just make out the far end of the crypt's main hallway. 'Which way, Sabra?' she asked, quietly.

'Forwards.' Sabra led the way, bringing flickering orange shadows to the grey picture that Ensa saw. As they walked down the hallway, Ensa right on Sabra's heels with her excitement, she could see that this crypt was constructed in the shape of a T – at the end a second long hallway ran crossways to the one they were in. But directly ahead of them, Ensa could see that an area had been hollowed out of the rock wall, and a waist high, rectangular slab of stone lay in the space created.

'Sabra,' she said, pointing. 'Is that –?'

'The tomb of Shadryan Eladrissinel. Yes.'

Ensa couldn't help it. She broke into a run, Star digging her claws through the fabric of her robe as the rat attempted to keep her balance.

By the time the others caught up with her, Ensa was bending over the tomb, running her fingers reverently over the intricate carvings. Carved into the stone by a great craftsman – long dead himself now, whoever he had been – were the forms of trees and rocks and towers, a dragon on a mountain peak and an angel in a cloud. But all the carvings drew the eye inwards towards the central figure: an elf, a book open in one hand, the other raised to cast a spell. Ensa ran her eyes over the words carved above the figure's head in bold, curving runes. 'That's him,' she said. 'Loremaster Eladrissinel.'

Tynan frowned. 'Can you read that?'

Ensa nodded. 'It's ancient draconic – most mages know it. Lots of spells and magic texts are written in it. I read it quite well.' But she was distracted, and didn't wait for Tynan to acknowledge her answer. 'So how can I find him, Sabra?'

The monk smiled. 'Try asking.' She raised her calm voice and called, 'Master Shadryan!'

'Looking for me, Sabra? Nice to know I'm remembered.' The voice was parchment thin, barely above a whisper, and sounded old as ages. The cold, hissing quality of it made all the hairs on Ensa's neck rise, and Star on her shoulder quivered and pressed herself against the half-orc's neck.

Then the owner of the voice came towards them, _through_ the elaborate tomb, and the rat squealed and disappeared down the back of Ensa's robe. The figure was undoubtedly an elf, wearing a sumptious robe, but none of them could tell what colour it had originaly been. All the colour seemed to have been drained out of the elf, so that he was bleached into a palette of greys, almost transparent where the torchlight touched him. Ensa, recovering from the shock of his appearance – it was, after all, not unlike what she saw with her darkvision – noticed that as he moved forwards he didn't take steps, instead gliding towards the group. She felt a tiny breath of icy air against her face.

'That's right,' Sabra said, her serene face and voice not at all altered by the ghost's appearance. 'There's someone here who'd like to ask you a couple of questions.'

The old elf's head twisted towards the little group, a sharp darting movement like a lizard. 'Which is it?' he hissed, sharply. 'Which of them thinks that he's worthy of _my_ words? The elf, is it?' He floated forwards, and Emlyn leapt aside to avoid the ghost's touch as he passed through the space where the young fighter had been standing to face Shadow. 'I might tell you something, young elf,' hissed the loremaster, with what looked almost like a grin on his face. 'If you're clever enough.'

Shadow faced him steadily, apparently entirely unmoved by this. Sabra, standing beside the tomb with the torch, said calmly. 'It isn't he who wants your knowledge.'

'No?' The ghost whirled round to look at her. 'Then who is it?'

Sabra laid a hand on the half-orc's shoulder. 'It's Ensa Dragontongue here.'

The old ghost's eyes narrowed. 'A half-orc won't ever be my inheritor,' he hissed.

Ensa frowned indignantly. 'Why not – if I'm clever enough?' she demanded. 'Anyway, I don't want to be your inheritor. I only want to know about the Dead that Walk.'

'And why should I tell you, I who am Walking myself?' The cold whisper sliced through the air. Ensa could feel Star trembling against her back. She gathered her wits to find an answer for this, but it seemed to be only a rhetorical question. The loremaster's ghost prowled away, back to his own tomb. When he turned, he spoke not in Common, but in the heavy, hissing syllables of the draconic language. 'Tell me, half-orc, why do they call you Dragontongue?'

Ensa could see the blank faces of the others, but answered steadily in the same language. 'Why do you think? It's not such a common accomplishment, among those with orcish blood.'

'So I know.' The ghost's eyes glittered blackly. 'But I do not think you are a usual orc.'

'I'm _not_ an orc!'

The old loremaster smiled, a thin, secretive smile. 'So vehement.' He paused, and then snapped suddenly. 'And don't believe I've failed to mark the little familiar shivering under your robes. So tell me – are you a good wizard?'

Ensa bit her tongue before she answered, then said honestly. 'Not as good as I will be.'

'Good answer,' hissed the ghost. 'There is always more to know. But if you want to have _my_ knowledge you must find my writings.'

'I can do that,' said Ensa, 'if you tell me where they are.'

'Can you? Can you? Better people than you have searched before. Searched for my precious, precious book…'

'Tell me where to look,' Ensa repeated, 'and I'll find it.'

'Oh no.' The ghost drew back with a silent swish of his robe. Ensa noticed how it didn't even shift the dust on the floor of the crypt. 'No, no, that would be too easy. Anyone might get their hands on it. No, I have to find a worthy successor. You'll find my book – if you're clever enough…'

Ensa's mouth dropped open. 'Do I not even get a clue?'

'Yes, you get what all the others got. For more than a hundred years I've been giving it to those who asked, but they never found it, not one of them was clever enough…' He trailed off. Just as Ensa felt she might be going to explode with impatience at the obsessive old ghost, Shadryan Eladrissinel drew himself up to his full height, his feet floating off the ground to bring him level with Ensa's face. 'Remember,' he hissed,

'_A house as old as ages, a path as old as time_

_Blessed are those who come there, though some come there in crime_

_Eleven guide their footsteps, yet some go walkabout_

_And far more dwell within than can ever live without_.'

The old ghost smiled slyly. 'Remember!' he said, again, beginning to drift away, back through the solid stone of his tomb's wall.

Ensa blinked, dragging a piece of parchment and a stick of charcoal out of her pocket to scribble the words down, then realised that the loremaster's ghost was leaving. 'What? That's it? Hey, wait!'

'Wait? What for? Does it mean anything to you?'

'Not yet,' Ensa admitted. 'But I've barely had time to think about it. It will.'

The old loremaster's face paused for a moment in its steady journey away. 'I like you, half-orc,' he said, in that knife-sharp, cold voice, but faintly, as though his voice was fading as he passed further away. 'I've a mind to help you a bit more.'

'Yes?' Ensa bent forwards eagerly to catch his words.

Despite its faintness, she could hear the spiteful laughter in the ghost's voice. 'There are three ghouls behind you.'

**AN: I apologise for the bad poetry… make that **_**extremely**_** bad poetry… however, I hope the sense of the riddle is clear enough. (Or, you know, not clear enough, as the case may be...)**


	8. Ghouls

_Seventh day after Sun's Height, year 30016 DC_

Ensa whirled around to face the others, the skirts of her robe throwing up dust. Beyond the light of the torch she could see a small group of shambling figures.

'Ghouls!' she yelled.

It was unfortunate that she'd just been talking in draconic, and shouted in that language. Emlyn, Tynan and Sabra stared at her in confusion.

Shadow was quicker on the uptake. He didn't understand Ensa's shout, but he recognised the warning tone and swung around, loosening his rapier in its sheathe. Like the half-orc, Shadow had enhanced vision that showed him clearly the lurching figures just reaching the shadowy radius of the torchlight.

'Tynan,' he said, coolly. 'Company.'

The three humans turned sharply. Tynan's longsword slithered out of its scabbard as he turned and Sabra dropped the torch – the spelled flame was in no danger of being extinguished, and it left the monk's hands free – and kicked it so that it rolled a little way down the ancient hallway, lighting up their antagonists clearly.

Both hands on the hilt of his broadsword, Emlyn gagged. The ghouls' smell hadn't reached them before in the still, musty air, but as they began to stir up the air of the crypt the stench of rotting flesh, sickly and stomach-turning, assailed him. And the ghouls' appearance was almost worse. They were bent over, hunched like crippled insects, and the shuffling scuttle of their progress was barely audible above the thumping of Emlyn's heart. He could see white bone glinting through the dark, strangely bloodless flesh, and sharp teeth filled a mouth more like a daggerfish than something almost human-shaped.

Emlyn gulped and drew his sword, holding it firmly in sweaty hands. He took a step forwards to place himself beside Sabra, just far enough away from the wall of the crypt that he would have room to swing his blade unimpeded. The rocky walls of the crypt towered above him into shadowy blackness above, the shallow niches in this area still empty.

'Well, if we die, at least they won't have far to take the bodies.' Shadow's dry voice came from the other end of the line to Emlyn. The young fighter swallowed. It was an awful long time since he'd been drilled by his father with a practice sword. This year he'd not even found the time and the willpower to practice alone. He didn't think the situation was funny.

Then there was no more time for thinking. One of the ghouls came straight at Emlyn, and he dodged away backwards, barely managing to evade its clumsy swipe. Its arms were long, out of proportion with its body, and its extended reach almost caught him. Emlyn had no room for finesse and the ghoul had nowhere to go. He swung his blade and opened up a deep gash in the ghoul's side.

It staggered and backed off a little, but Emlyn's swing had put him off balance. As the ghoul lunged at him with the other long arm he was barely able to duck out of the way, and it clipped his shoulder with its blackened and filthy claws. A glancing blow, one that Emlyn barely felt. He prepared to catch himself and pivot upright again for his next thrust – but his muscles seemed to have locked.

Confused, and with dawning horror, Emlyn continued his fall, stiff as a board and completely helpless.

* * *

Ensa had stayed back behind the fighters, muttering and flicking her fingers in practised and precise gestures as she drew into her mind the power of the spell she'd prepared for this eventuality. Reassured by the departure of the ghost and the warm feeling of magic flowing between them, Star clawed her way up the half-orc's back and onto her shoulder, but Ensa barely felt her little claws.

She paused before completing the spell, finger ready to point at her chosen target. But which should she choose? Who needed the help?

Tynan and Shadow had a ghoul between them. They were experienced fighters and well-used to watching each other's backs, so they'd be alright. Sabra, in the centre, was alone and fighting unarmed – but the monk was running rings around her bemused undead opponent, her fiery hair and graceful body a blur in the flickering torchlight, raining in blows from every side. But right in front of Ensa, a huge gap was opening up in the ranks of her friends.

She pointed over Emlyn's descending head and shouted the last words of her incantation.

* * *

To Emlyn the fall felt slow, and almost graceful. He could see the ghoul looming over him, teeth and eyes gleaming, and noticed dreamily how little blood was dripping from the wound he'd made – as if it was was clinging to the thin, dark flesh, reluctant to pour away. There seemed to be something wrong with his hearing. As if he was falling into water, the sounds of the fighting, that had been ringing in his ears only seconds ago, were beginning to fade out. Somewhere, a long way off, he thought that he heard someone shouting.

Then, as the ghoul drew back its lips in a vicious snarl, revealing all its pointed teeth, a jet of green light shimmered across Emlyn's restricted vision and hit the creature full on the chest. For a minute it stood there, stupidly, with the strange fire blossoming on its torso. Then it fell away backwards, out of his sight.

* * *

Glancing across the corridor, Ensa saw Shadow withdraw his rapier from the crumpled form of the ghoul he and Tynan had fought. The ranger had already turned away to aid Sabra in finishing off the third and last creature, and the half-orc saw that they wouldn't need her help. She crouched down beside Emlyn, who was lying on his back, eyes staring furiously at the ceiling, but he wasn't badly hurt. She'd known that.

She heard the muffled thump as the last ghoul hit the floor, and glanced up briefly to see Tynan and Shadow cleaning their blades while Sabra picked up the torch, stepping carefully over the corpses with her bare feet. Then all three came and joined her, forming a little huddle around Emlyn's prone form.

Tynan ran a knowledgeable eye over his cousin's body. 'He's all right,' he said. 'Barely scratched. So why…?'

'Ghouls,' said Ensa. 'Paralytic touch. It'll wear off in a couple of minutes.' She glanced up at Sabra for confirmation and received a smile and a nod from the monk.

'And nobody else is hurt?' asked Tynan, glancing around the group and taking in nods of confirmation from everybody. 'Good. We'll wait, then. Ensa, take a look round – there aren't any more of those things, are there?'

Ensa stood up, reaching a hand up to steady Star on her shoulder as she moved, and looked down the crypt, into the depths where her vision faded out into black and white and finally into complete darkness. 'I can't see any.'

'Good,' said Tynan, again. 'Keep your eyes open. And yours, Shadow.'

The elf gave a curt nod of acknowledgement, looking around the group and out into the limits of the shadowy torchlight where the humans' vision was defeated. Ensa's eyes followed him curiously. There was some kind of mystery about the elf – and the half-orc loved nothing more than to uncover mysteries.

_Leave him alone_, she scolded herself. _His life is his own business, not yours. Besides, you have a puzzle of your own to solve. How did it go?_ She picked up her parchment and charcoal from where she'd dropped them, brushing away the grey dust clinging to them._ A house as old as ages…

* * *

_

Emlyn climbed on board the boat, scrambling forwards over the crates and barrels that the little provisioning vessel had brought to Graveisle, and sat himself down at the prow facing the sparkling waves and with his back firmly turned towards the sheer cliffs of the island of the dead.

He was still burning up with embarrassment about being paralysed. Tynan had told him it could happen to anyone; Sabra had said that it had happened to _her_ twice; but it didn't make Emlyn feel better. He knew that he had shown exactly how much of a rookie he was, managing to get himself incapacitated by an enemy that all the others had handled with ease.

Perhaps Tynan had known some of what was going through Emlyn's mind, because he'd given his cousin's shoulder a squeeze and let the younger man scramble off and find time to think while he turned to bid Sabra – who had escorted them back down to the dock – farewell. Shadow had said nothing at all, and Emlyn knew that the elf was despising him for his uselessness.

It was scorching hot, and Emlyn felt his clothes sticking to his skin under the weight of his mail. He jangled when he walked as well, for all the world as if he was wearing a set of bells, not armour. He hated it. Why had he thought he wanted to be an adventurer? He comforted himself with the thought that it would be much cooler on the water.

Emlyn listened with half an ear to his cousin's conversation. They'd barely had time to collect their thoughts after leaving the graveyard when Sabra had warned them that if they didn't want to remain on Graveisle another week – or until someone hired a boat to come to the island – they'd have to catch the little provisions ship before it left. They'd had to rush through sketchy farewells to Ensa, who'd been left up in the main courtyard, and come straight down the narrow cliff staircase at precipitous speeds. Emlyn hadn't been sorry not to have time to talk to the half-orc. She'd saved his life when he'd been weak and useless, and he could feel his face beginning to burn every time she so much as glanced in his direction.

'Thank you for all your help,' Tynan was saying. 'And convey our thanks to the Abbot as well, of course. Give him my sincere apologies we weren't able to stay and speak to him again.'

'I will,' said Sabra. She bowed, her bright hair glinting in the sunlight. 'It has been an honour and a privilege to fight alongside you. You will always be welcome here on Graveisle.' She turned to the captain of the boat, and smiled at him. 'And thank you as always for your invaluable services. You'll be heading back to Northport?'

'Aye, Mis' Sabra, an' I'll be seein' you again nex' week as usual.' He turned to Tynan. 'An' if you can get aboard now, Mis' Sabra'll cast us off an' we can be goin'.'

Tynan nodded, and he and Shadow stepped lightly aboard. Emlyn felt the little ship rock under their weight and he shifted instinctively to balance himself on the rolling deck. It was good to be back at sea.

'A'right,' called the captain. 'Everyone ready?'

'Wait!' The shout came from some distance off. Everyone swivelled their heads to look back up to the cliff.

Ensa was running down the path, robes flapping around her huge, ungainly figure as she swung round the sharp bends. A bag was slung over her shoulder, and she held a staff in one hand. The other hand clutched Star to her as she ran.

She didn't have enough breath to shout again. When she arrived at the water's edge, the half-orc breathed heavily for a couple of seconds, then gasped, 'I'm coming too. He talked about a house, so I'm going to examine his. Might be something there. Northisle. That's where you're going, right?'

'Aye, that's it,' grunted the captain, who was beginning to be seriously annoyed by these constant interruptions. 'An' I'd like to get there today, so if you could come aboard – half-orc.'

Ensa's face went blank. 'Right,' she said, flatly. Emlyn saw the muscles of the wizard's throat move as she swallowed, then slung her bag aboard and, clinging to Star, hitched up the skirts of her robe and stepped gingerly onto the little ship. She sat down hurriedly in the centre of the boat as it rocked under her weight.

Emlyn whipped his head back round, so that he was staring out to sea, before Ensa should look in his direction. A part of him scolded himself. _You're being childish and ungrateful_. But it didn't help him decide what to do.

_Maybe I should go and talk to her_. Emlyn risked another glance round as Sabra cast them off from the quayside and the little ship slipped away. Their speed picked up, waves lapping at the bow, and Emlyn could feel through the deck the humming vibration of the keel. Forgetting his dilemma for a minute he smiled, turning his face up into the salty wind.

Behind him the captain called, 'Ready to go about?'

Emlyn felt the deck rock as people shifted around. He heard someone stumble and one of the crew members, a blue-eyed elf who must have come from Leafisle, cursed loudly. 'Find yourself somewhere out of the way!' the elf commanded. 'Get up in the bows where that lad is.'

Emlyn turned his head to see who had been sent to join him, and blinked as he saw Ensa making her way towards him. The half-orc was clutching Star fiercely against her and stepping awkwardly and slowly between the crates and sacking on deck. Her face had paled to a light grey.

Emlyn frowned and began to climb to his feet. 'Are you alright? You look a bit –'

As he moved, the little ship came out from the lee of Graveisle and heeled over smartly as she picked up the wind. Emlyn automatically shifted his weight to match the tilt of the deck, but Ensa was caught off balance. As they reached the open water and little ship began pitching and tossing in earnest, the half-orc sprawled onto the deck. Star squeaked in protest and wriggled free of Ensa's hold, running easily across the swaying deck to shelter amongst a heap of crates that were covered in netting and lashed to the deck.

'Here, let me help,' Emlyn hurried over to the half-orc and took her arm, steadying her as she climbed back to her feet. 'Come forward of the mast, where we won't have to worry about the boom going over.' He half-dragged the stumbling wizard into a clear space. 'Sit down. Are you hurt?'

'No.' Ensa shook her head. 'Seasick. I hate boats.' She groaned and clutched her stomach as the ship rolled.

Emlyn blinked. 'But how could _anyone_ – oh, never mind.' The half-orc did look really ill.

'How long until we get to Northisle?'

Emlyn glanced around. He could already see little Fireisle approaching. 'Three, four hours in a nice brisk wind like this.'

'Nice brisk wind!' Ensa groaned again.

Emlyn added hurriedly, 'But it'll be much calmer once we're among the Islands. Graveisle hasn't much shelter, but once we get into Whaleisle's lee and then into the channel between Fireisle and Windisle the waves'll die down a lot. Then we're sailing up past the Inner Isles with all the Islands in between us and open sea. That's flat as a millpond. It'll be a lot better there.'

* * *

He was right, thought Ensa, although she was ready to take issue with Emlyn's definition of 'flat as a millpond'. From her point of view the boat was still rolling alarmingly, and her stomach heaving with it, but she felt well enough to sit up and take notice of the scenery and the screaming flocks of gulls wheeling above the Islands.

'Feeling better?' asked Emlyn, anxiously.

Ensa looked up at the young man, who was sitting on a crate and looking down at her with worried eyes, his hair ruffled by the breeze. She managed a weak smile. 'Much. Thanks, Emlyn – I would've been stuck without you.'

'Oh, no, that's alright,' Emlyn said, hurried and awkward. 'Uh – Ensa – I – uh – you saved my life. In the graveyard.'

'Oh, you don't have to thank me,' Ensa said, just as fast. 'Anyone would've done that.'

'Yeah, but you were the one who did,' Emlyn said earnestly, leaning down towards her, and then coloured up. 'Uh…'

They stared at each other for a second, caught in an awkward silence. Then a gust of wind caught the boat and it tilted sharply, bringing the contents of Ensa's stomach leaping up into her throat with an acid taste of bile. She groaned and shut her eyes, willing herself not to throw up.

There was a pause, and then she felt Emlyn's hard, mail-clad arm slide hesitantly around her to support her. Ensa leant on him gratefully.

Even in the midst of her discomfort, she had time for the thought, _Even if I leave this afternoon and never meet Emlyn again, I think I've made a friend_.


	9. A Musical Encounter

**AN: This chapter contains some quite strange formatting and punctuation, which I apologise for in advance... the problem is that fanfiction won't let me have the layout I want, so I've been forced to do the best I can.

* * *

**

_Seventh day after Sun's Height, 30016 DC_

Emlyn resettled his pack on his shoulders, looking around him at the busy main street with lively interest. As a city, Northport seemed to him to have all the bustling vibrancy that Goldport was lacking. It was so strange to think that only yesterday he'd been in that sullen, fearful atmosphere! Here everything seemed to be in bright colours, from the clothes of the people who bustled through the streets to the goods stacked up for sale on wooden stands and in shop windows. Emlyn could see children laughing and shrieking as they played with a ball, a noblewoman's escort clearing a way for her through the noisy crowd and the occasional flash of magic. He could still smell the salt tang of the sea, and, using his height to crane over the heads of the crowd, he could see the glitter of water at the end of the street. In a little patch of clear space at a street corner, an acrobat showed off her slender and well-muscled body in a series of somersaults. A strip of silver material in her tight-fitting costume caught the light like the ocean, and the crowd around her applauded and called encouragement, adding to the babble of noise in the street.

When they'd arrived at the docks Emlyn'd barely been able to take in the scale of it all. He could see why Northport was Iluen's most important trading city. He'd never seen so many ships in one place! Most of them were merchantmen, loading up their holds with finely crafted goods from the Islands and further north, preparatory to sailing out on the trade winds. One or two of them seemed to be recruiting crew members – one particular captain, a shrewd-looking halfling, had caught Emlyn's eye as he inspected a handful of potential sailors.

Over at the far side of the harbour had been Northport's fleet. Northisle had the largest population of all the Islands, and could contribute eight full crews when the Islands were threatened. But Emlyn wasn't especially impressed with their ships – loyalty had compelled the ruling council of Northisle to buy from their own shipyards, and in Emlyn's eyes their vessels lacked the elegance and seaworthiness of Haven's ships. Some of the merchant ships were far more beautiful. Briefly his mind flickered to the lovely _Wave Dancer_.

'Come on, dreamer,' Tynan said in his ear, and Emlyn jumped, turning to face his cousin. 'Let's go and find somewhere to stay. You can have a look around in the morning.'

It _was_ beginning to get dark, Emlyn saw. It didn't seem to make a difference to the number of people on the streets, but the bright day was beginning to turn dusky as the sun sank towards the horizon. A guard in battered chain mail was making her way down the street, lighting torches that were fixed to the side of buildings as she went. The city's ensignia of a scroll and a lightning bolt gleamed on the side of her helmet.

Emlyn turned and followed his cousin and Shadow up the street. Ensa had left them already, intending to find lodgings near the city's east gate as the first stop in her journey to Loremaster Eladrissinel's house. Emlyn half wished they'd gone with her. He'd like to see the sights of Northisle, like the famous Stormlord's Circle, and it'd have been nice to get to know Ensa more as well – but after all, if you were going to see Northisle, where better to start than the capital city? And it was exciting to be here! Emlyn could see the stately pillared building that was Northport's city hall. That was where the original copy of the Island Charter was kept, he remembered. Maybe he could go and see that. And visit the temples! Emlyn'd never seen proper temples until he went to Graveisle. He could go and see the temple of Koron here.

The crowds were thinning out a little as the three adventurers drifted up the street, away from the docks. Up ahead somewhere, Emlyn could hear music. As the shining notes floated down towards them, he began to recognise the tune. 'That's _Island Maids_.'

'You know it?' Tynan asked, absently. He was scanning the buildings either side of them for an inn.

'Every Islander knows it!' Emlyn was at a loss to explain how deeply the popular sea shanty was engrained in local culture. 'Listen, you can hear them.' Sure enough, as the musician swung into the chorus of the song, a crowd of voices took it up, and the words suddenly became clear:

'If you'd make port before nightfall

Then heave, lads, heave away!

There's wealth and glory to be made

So heave, lads, heave!

The Islands is our port of call

So heave, lads, heave away!

Think of a sweet Island maid

And heave, lads, heave!'

Emlyn sang the tune under his breath as Tynan located its source, a brightly-lit and cheerful looking inn, and headed towards it.

'It might be full,' the ranger said doubtfully, stopping outside. 'There's a lot of people in there.'

'Oh, come on,' said Emlyn, pleadingly. He already had his hand on the door.

Tynan grinned. 'I'm teasing you. We can ask, anyway.'

Emlyn pulled a face at him, and pushed open the door, letting out a blast of sound and warm, smoky air. A lone voice was just beginning on the final verse of the song – a female voice that was as warm and sweet and golden as honey. A few patrons looked round at them as they came in, but most were intent on the singer, who was hidden from Emlyn's view by the crowd. Many of them were, like Emlyn, mouthing the words.

'The maids of Graveisle will beat you

In any kind of a fight

And the maids of Goldisle will cheat you

As soon as you hove in sight.

Oh, the maids of Northisle are pretty

And the maids of Windisle are tall

And in the Inner Isles you won't

Find any maids at all!'

The song ended in a burst of clapping and cheering. The crowd shuffled a little to make space for the three new entrants – who were clapping as loudly as anyone – and Emlyn got a view of the two figures standing at the end of the cramped, dimly-lit room for the first time.

Standing upright and smiling in a friendly, confident way at the mass of Islanders was a short, neat female figure. She had curly fair hair and blue eyes, but her skin was a luxurious chestnut brown. Emlyn, who had never met any gnomes, was taken aback for a minute, finding it hard to place her. It was obviously she who had been singing. As she turned to speak to her companion, gold embroidery flashed at the collar of her deep-ochre tunic, and her boots had intricate patterns tooled into the leather.

Lounging against the wall behind her, the tall human that she was speaking to couldn't have been more of a contrast. His hair was grey and his clothes were dusty and worn, of indeterminate colours that might pass anywhere without notice. He was slightly hunched over, and Emlyn saw that his long, lean fingers were caressing the shape of a small travelling harp. Unlike anything else about the man, the instrument gleamed. Even as he bent his head to listen to the pretty gnome he was touching the strings, almost soundlessly.

As Emlyn watched, the man nodded his head at something his companion said, and moved his fingers more decisively to draw three louder chords out of his instrument. Almost instantly, the crowd began to quieten down.

'Thank you,' said the gnome, smiling charmingly at them. 'Thank you, that's very kind. Your songs here on the Islands aren't quite like anything else, that's why I love coming here.'

'Another one!' someone shouted.

'Yeah, that's right,' added a female voice. 'Something for us girls!'

The young gnome grinned at them. 'Not right now. We're going to tell a story.'

There was a general interested muttering from the crowd. They wanted to know what this personable young bard would make of telling a tale. A number of people who had been standing looked for somewhere to settle down. Emlyn heard his name called quietly and half turned to find Tynan and Shadow had moved away from their positions behind him and were seated at a small table in the corner of the room. He crossed over to them and slung his pack under the table with theirs, immediately swivelling the sturdy wooden chair so that he could carry on watching the show.

'What sort of a story do you want?' the gnome asked. 'Something you know? Or something you haven't heard before?' Her voice was soothing and sweet. Emlyn could have quite happily listened all night. He absent-mindedly accepted a mug of ale from his cousin and held it on his knee.

A number of coversations had started up as people debated what kind of story they wanted the young bard to tell, but most people had barely decided when a gruff voice called from the opposite side of the room, 'Let's have Nara, girl! Nara and the Gates of Eternity!'

Along with a number of other people, Emlyn craned his neck to try and see who had spoken. As far as he could tell, it was a swarthy dwarf, who was leaning on the shaft of a double-headed axe and watching the gnome speculatively.

The bard smiled. 'Ah! That one's always popular with dwarfs. Does anyone have any objection to that?' she asked, raising her voice to address the room in general. 'No? Then that'll be the one. C'mon, Markiss – let's have Nara's section out of _Amarill's Sacrifice_.' She turned her head to smile at her companion, and then folded her legs and sat gracefully on the floor, leaving the tall man to face the crowd.

There was a startled moment as people realised that the young gnome didn't intend to tell the story herself, but as the shabbier bard struck a ripple of notes on his harp, the muttering died away. The notes were sharp and sparkling and true, and they fell into the listener's ear like a line of poetry, each note distinct and yet part of a greater whole.

Emlyn could hear the expectant breathing of the crowd, and felt himself sit up straighter. Although his mother had taught him the famous legends of Iluen's history, he'd never heard any of _Amarill's Sacrifice_, supposedly the greatest bardic poem ever written. He caught his breath when the tall man – Markiss – began to speak across the music, half-chanting, half-saying the words of the ancient lay:

See her / Touch her

The girl / Nara

Dwarf-child / Orphan

Kinless / Outcast

Lonely / Frightened

Cold and / Hungry

She walks / Dark paths.

Deepest / She finds

The paths / Of death

And she / Wanders

Far from / Sun's light.

Dwarf-child / Delver

She finds / Black Gates

His voice wasn't as startlingly beautiful as the gnome girl's, but as Emlyn listened he felt himself drawn into the world the bard was evoking. The words and the solitary, disconnected notes of the harp wrapped around each other and fused together, sending a shiver up the young fighter's spine as he felt the utter darkness and the gaping immensity of Nara's world.

Emlyn was lost. He barely noticed when Tynan rescued his still-full mug from slipping to the floor and replaced it securely on the table.

* * *

Tynan regarded his young cousin with amused affection, and turned to grin at Shadow, who was listening with only half an ear to the story as he scanned the intent crowd with his inscrutable dark eyes. 'He's well away,' the ranger muttered. 

The elf flicked a glance at his friend, who saw again the hint of laughter at the back of his eyes. 'Oh, well, at least he's got the taste to fall for something good,' he breathed in reply.

Tynan smiled and leaned back in his chair. The bards _were_ very good – but he was already stifled in the town. It was crowded and noisy in the inn, and the smells of smoke, ale and tightly-packed bodies were cloying in his nostrils. He could see exactly why Emlyn found Northport so exciting, but Tynan would trade it in a second for the brisk cold emptiness of the starlit night outside.


	10. Trouble at the East Gate

_Eighth day after Sun's Height, 30016 DC_

Ensa woke early, excited and anticipating the day ahead. If her calculations were correct, she could arrive at Loremaster Eladrissinel's house today and she might even have time to examine the building and grounds before the sun set if she hurried.

She had spent the night in an uninspired but reasonably clean inn overlooking the east gate of Northport, and as she glanced out of the window she could see two soldiers, dressed in the livery of the city guards, unbarring the gates and swinging them wide open so that the morning sun streamed through onto the cobbled street. Ensa grinned. Those were the gates that she was going to be walking out of in half an hour, and that dusty road, with ruts and dips where cobblestones were missing, was the one that was going to take her to the Sage of Northisle's house. Despite the early hour she could hear a street vendor outside shouting, and the sound mixed with the tread of the guards' mailed feet, floating up to the pale blue sky. It looked like it was going to be another lovely day.

Ensa had felt Star jolt into alertness as soon as she herself moved, and as the half-orc checked that the flaps of her bag were securely tied down and picked up her battered staff her familiar emerged from her nest of blankets, sniffing the air with quick twitching motions and scanning the room with her bright dark eyes.

'C'mon,' Ensa said, extending her hand to the rat. 'Let's go and find something to eat, then we can go.'

* * *

Emlyn yawned as he clattered down the stairs and into the inn's common room. It had been quite late before the performance had finished the night before, and he'd slept only fitfully, woken from time to time by the torchlight that flickered outside the windows. By the time he'd finally fallen properly asleep the sky was already beginning to pale. And he'd had the weirdest dream – if it _had_ been a dream – where he thought he'd woken up and seen Shadow armouring up and slipping out of the room. Tynan had still been asleep. Emlyn had been too sleepy to react, but in the clear light of morning he was considering the incident again. If it _wasn't_ just a dream… what could it mean? What was Shadow up too?

The common room looked different in the daylight. Clear of the crowds and the smoke it seemed much larger, with stained and dirty plaster walls and a beamed ceiling. With the shutters thrown open to the morning sun the room seemed quite bright and cheerful.

In the centre of the room, Tynan was sitting with his back to Emlyn. He was sharing a table with a tall, grey-haired human and a small, vivacious gnome girl, talking to them easily. Emlyn blinked, swallowed, and hurried across to join them, forgetting Shadow completely. He was suddenly acutely aware of the racket he made in his clattering mail.

''Morning, Tynan. Hello.' He smiled tentatively at the two bards. The young gnome grinned back, white teeth flashing.

'Hey there. You must be Emlyn. I'm Jilly.' Her voice was just as sweet and smooth when she spoke as when she sang, Emlyn noticed, and he knew he'd never forget it. She extended a hand across the table and he clasped it briefly within his own much larger palm. He felt suddenly overlarge and clumsy.

The young fighter felt himself beginning to blush, and to cover it looked up at Jilly's companion, who was dreamily fingering the strings of the harp still cradled in the crook of his arm. The older bard met Emlyn's gaze immediately. _Not as absent-minded as he looks_, Emlyn thought.

'I'm Markiss Greythorn. Gods be with you.'

'And you,' Emlyn said, respectfully, then turned to his cousin. 'Tynan, why didn't you wake me?'

The ranger smiled at him. 'Good morning to you as well, Emlyn. We aren't in any hurry and you looked like you needed the sleep.' Tynan glanced across the table and said with mock reproach. 'You two kept us up late, you know.'

Jilly laughed. 'Oh, I'm sorry. Next time we'll be sure to make the show shorter.'

'Oh, _no_.' Emlyn was startled into a response, and everybody looked at him. He blushed and reached out to drag a chair over from another table to give him an excuse to turn away. 'I mean… it was brilliant. You shouldn't cut it. That would be… I mean, it would be less complete. It'd be a shame.'

'Thank you,' said Jilly, graciously. 'I'm glad you liked it… no, really.' That was to Tynan, who had raised his eyebrows slightly. 'After all, if people don't like the music, how're we ever going to get them to pay us?' She grinned, and Markiss said vaguely:

'The money's not important.'

Jilly elbowed him in the ribs. 'Says you.' She flashed another smile across the table at the cousins and said, 'He eats barely anything and he doesn't mind sleeping in hedgerows.' She glanced down at her own immaculate figure and tugged her tunic collar so that it hung straighter. It was a different garment to the one she'd worn last night, Emlyn noticed, a two-toned blue weave with flared sleeves and scalloped edging. By contrast, Markiss – like Tynan, and Emlyn himself – looked as though he could have been wearing his current clothing for at least a week or so.

Tynan smiled. 'Look, we should really get something to eat. Care to join us?'

Jilly shrugged and smiled again. 'Why not? Does this place do breakfasts?'

'Doesn't look like it. Guess we have to go out and look for something.'

Emlyn frowned, suddenly remembering his peculiar night-time experience. 'Tynan, where's Shadow?'

'He's here.'

Emlyn glanced around, but completely failed to see anyone until a patch of shadows by the doorway unfolded itself into the elf. 'Oh. Hello.'

Shadow gave him a sarcastic smile, and favoured the bards with an impartial nod. 'There's plenty of places to eat out in the town,' he said, coolly.

Emlyn scowled. The elf's collected, superior voice grated on his nerves.

* * *

In the end they bought hot fried fish from a street vendor and wandered down to the harbour as they ate them, licking scorched fingers and throwing the multitude of tiny bones into the water. Emlyn could feel the juice running down his chin and knew he must look undignified, but he didn't care. He was starving and the fish was the best food he'd had in… he couldn't remember how long. But it was _good_.

Jilly was chatting to Tynan about places she'd been to. Emlyn listened silently, somewhat overawed. The young gnome surely couldn't be much older than himself – but she'd seen places and things that he'd never even dreamed of.

She and Markiss had travelled down to the islands from the north, it emerged, where they'd spent the first part of the summer. 'And I'd hate to be there in winter.' Jilly laughed. 'Even at this time of year I had to keep singing Sharan songs to try and convince myself I was warm enough! At night, though, that's the worst…' She shuddered. 'I mean, there are some times when you expect to be able to get warm.'

'Nice music, though,' said Markiss, absent-mindedly. 'They have the queerest little melody lines… all in minors and discords that work somehow.'

'That's true. They have these heavy drumbeats, and then they play little bone pipes that sound so eerie, like the wind blowing over the tundra…' Jilly shivered. 'But you don't want to hear the music talk. Have you ever been north?'

'Not up beyond the mountains,' Tynan told her. 'I was born in northern Wayrin – the Wolf Country – and that's been cold enough for me so far.'

'Quite right!' Jilly laughed again. 'You obviously know when you're onto a good thing. I was _never_ so glad to experience a heatwave as when I arrived here.'

'You've been before, though,' Emlyn commented. 'You've got the Island songs down pat.'

'Yeah, sure.' Jilly tossed her fish-head into the harbour, gazing out across the water to where the bulk of Starisle, largest of the Inner Isles, sat like a landed whale. 'Couple of times. They're nice, the Islands. Relaxing. Anyone can be themselves here, as long as they don't try and hurt anyone else. I mean – when you're other places you hear all that stuff about the Islands being 'the land of the free' and all that, and then you come here and it's all _true_.' She shook her head. 'Amazing. Amazing place, amazing people.'

Emlyn glanced across the harbour to the south-west, where Goldisle was hidden behind the unfurling sail of a merchant ship just slipping loose from her moorings to sail for the south and scowled.

'What's wrong?' asked Markiss. Emlyn jumped. He hadn't realised that anyone was watching him.

'Oh… no. Nothing.' To Jilly, he said, 'They're not all like that, you know. The Island Charter's great – it's a great idea – but it doesn't always work out.'

'Yes, of course –' she began, but was interrupted.

'Jilly, Markiss,' said Tynan, sharply, 'I don't suppose you know what that building is?'

Emlyn snapped his head around to look at his cousin. Shadow had drawn the ranger a little aside from the rest of the group, and both the man and the elf were looking back up the street they'd just come down, back up towards the centre of town. There were a few people out at this time, hastening down to the docks or doing early morning shopping – except around one building, a three-storey stone house about half-way up the street, which had drawn a crowd as thick as storms round Kachal's festival.

As they watched, a contingent of armoured men and women wearing the livery of the city guard hurried out of the building, some still lacing armour or strapping helmets on. A couple stopped to try and marshal the crowd into some sort of order and prevent them following, while the others dashed up the street and then turned into a smaller alley and disappeared from view.

'Guardhouse, it looks like,' Tynan said, quietly. He traded a quick glance with Shadow. Then he set off up the cobbled street in pursuit of the running watchmen.

* * *

They knew that they were nearing the scene of the problem when they ran into the back of the crowd. Two guards, an earnest young man and a tired-looking middle-aged woman, were trying to persuade people to move away, back down the street and clear the area, but with little success. People at the front might be listening, but those at the back were still pushing forwards and trying to find out what was going on.

Emlyn craned his neck. He could just about see over the heads of most of the crowd, but not enough to understand what he was seeing. He could pick out a clear space, ringed by guards… the city walls ahead of him, with the East Gate shut and barred and two watchmen with pikes lowered standing in front of it… and a handful of other lone figures – a heavily built man with his back to Emlyn, a guard sergeant, a slim colourful figure. A chunky silhouette in a nondescript brown robe, holding a staff…

'_Ensa?_'

Tynan felt a sudden space beside him, unexpected in the thick crowd, and glanced round at Emlyn – only to discover that his cousin was not where he'd thought. The young fighter was now several feet away from him, wading forwards, the crowd parting before his bulk like water. Tynan hissed quietly in annoyance, met Shadow's eye for a second, and then turned and plunged after his cousin.

* * *

Ensa's mind raced. She tried to keep her face blank, but Star – sheltering out of sight in the space between Ensa's neck and her bulky backpack – was shivering and shifting nervously, a sure indicator of Ensa's dilemma. What could she do?

In front of her, the heavyset man's bald head gleamed in the morning sun, and the light flashed on the long knife he was holding. But Ensa was sure that it wasn't sunshine causing the glitter in the man's eyes – and that was precisely what was worrying her. Was worrying all of them. A little way in front of her the guard sergeant was talking, calmly, reasonably, and only Ensa could see that his hands were tightly knotted into one another behind his back. Like her, he wasn't sure that reasoning with a madman was going to get them anywhere.

Especially when that madman had his knife at a child's throat.

The little boy was too scared to scream, his eyes huge in his white face and his black hair scuffled and dragged up on end. Ensa would have liked to catch his eyes and smile; but she had a realistic assessment of her face's ability to reassure. Instead she swallowed, trying to moisten a dry mouth and looked around her inconspicuosuly, wondering if anyone else might be able to help her.

It didn't look good. Within the enclosing ring of guards there were only five people, aside from the man with the knife: herself; the guard sergeant, his eyes locked on those of the madman as he talked endlessly, trying to persuade the man to let the child go; the boy's mother, held firmly by another guard to prevent her rushing towards her child, her hands scrabbling at each other and reaching out towards her son imploringly; and the slender girl on Ensa's right.

Ensa had no idea how the girl had come to be mixed up in all this. But then she had barely any idea of how she had come to be here herself – she'd been about to leave the town when the whole hullabaloo began and the guards slammed the gate shut just ahead of the running man. He hadn't grabbed the child until after that – when more guards came pounding up the street behind him and he'd realised there was no way he was going to get away. The boy, his mother, Ensa, and this fair-haired girl, dressed in the bright, close-fitting clothes of a street performer, had been the unlucky ones drawn into the action when this stand-off began, stuck within the circle of guards who were too distracted and too busy to get rid of them.

Be that as it may, the girl was the only one at all likely to be able to help her. Ensa twisted her head, slowly and met her eyes.

The girl's straight sandy hair was cut in a ragged crop level with her chin, and her skin was tanned and lightly freckled by the sun. She had pale eyes of an indefinable grey-green colour, fringed with much darker lashes, and they were staring urgently at Ensa. 'Distract him,' the girl mouthed at the half-orc.

Ensa turned her head back with glacial slowness to focus on the man with the knife. The glitter in his eyes seemed to be receding, which was good. But he was focusing on the guard sergeant, and with a strange little smile, which was disturbingly out of place on his broad-featured face, refusing to put down the knife. Which was not good at all.

Ensa swallowed. She hoped the girl across from her knew what she was doing. 'Star,' she whispered. 'Can you help –?'

* * *

When Emlyn reached the line of guards, the rattle of his mail and heavy tread of his boots helping to move people aside in front of him, he had to stop. He could now see clearly the man clutching the terrified little boy and the tense, worried figures surrounding him. And he saw, although Ensa's bulky figure masked it from the madman, the little rat shape crawl down Ensa's pack, then drop to the ground and whisk itself away into the crowd.

He wasn't the only one. Beside him, a stout matron ogling the events gasped and opened her mouth – perhaps to shout or scream. Emlyn never got to find out what she would have done, because a slender hand in a black sleeve reached out to clap itself firmly over her mouth.

Emlyn looked down in astonishment at Shadow, who winked at him and muttered to the woman, 'It's nothing personal, lady, but you wouldn't want to disturb them out there, would you?'

The woman's chest swelled with indignation and she drew herself up, but before she could do anything, three things happened almost at once.

A rat – Star, Emlyn had to assume – ran out from the crowd in between the guard sergeant and the madman, drawing everyone's eyes, and disappeared into the crowd on the far side of the circle, where some people hurriedly shuffled out of its way with a few little gasps and screams. A few seconds after that, before anyone had time to pull themselves together and get back to the situation in hand, a loud crash sounded from the same direction – about thirty yards away, behind the crowd. Everyone jumped, and Emlyn winced, realising what effect a startled movement could have on the madman and the child who he was threatening.

But when he looked back into the circle of guards, the boy had jerked himself away. This was because the only person who hadn't been distracted or frozen in shock was the girl in tumbler's clothes, and as the madman looked round she had hurled her full weight forwards and onto his knife-arm, bearing the blade down and away from the child.

There was a further moment of shock from almost everybody; then the guard sergeant snapped a command and the guards broke their circle, wading into the fray to pinion the madman's arms and snatch his weapon. Many people stayed where they were, watching what was going on, but Emlyn stepped forwards and touched Ensa's arm. 'Are _you_ all right?'

The half-orc jumped again. '_Emlyn?_ What are you doing here?'

'Sticking our noses in,' said Tynan, who'd followed Emlyn across. 'Where do you come into all this?'

Ensa shrugged. 'Not quite sure.'

'Do you know who that crazy girl is?' Emlyn asked, incredulously. The risk of what he'd just seen happen in front of him was beginning to hit him. 'The chances of her moving faster than him were tiny, even after she got lucky with that noise. She could've easily got herself killed as well as the boy!'

'I didn't, though.' The clear, challenging voice came from behind them, and they all turned to see the fair-haired girl, who had rolled clear of the little melee, where the guards were now manacling the madman, and stood behind them, casually licking a long scratch on her arm. 'I knew I wouldn't. That bang just made things easier, but I could've done it anyway.' Her voice was totally confident.

'Has it struck anyone that the crash was not entirely fortuitous?' Shadow enquired, dryly.

Emlyn would have died before he made himself look stupid in front of Shadow again, but fortunately for him, someone else asked the question. 'Huh? What?' said the girl.

Shadow rolled his eyes and didn't deign to answer. Ensa said quietly, 'That was me too.'

Emlyn grinned at her, and said, 'And Star, right?' but the girl was looking at the half-orc with interest.

'Oh, really? Magic? Kind of fits with the whole rat thing, though. I wouldn't've guessed. I s'pose that's a good disguise.'

Ensa didn't say anything, or appear to react to the girl's words, although Emlyn bristled. 'I suppose _you_ think –' he began, when he was stopped by Tynan's hand on his arm.

The guard sergeant had marched across and was standing in front of them, one hand on his hip. Behind him, his men were hustling the madman away down the street, followed by a hissing and shouting crowd, while the other side of them the two gate guards were once again lifting the bar and swinging the gates open.

'Right,' said the sergeant, not sounding altogether pleased. 'What did you think you were playing at?' The comment was mostly aimed at the fair girl, but it seemed to apply in a general way to any of them.

Emlyn heard a muted but clear musical note, and twisted his head to look at Markiss and Jilly, who had strolled up behind the sergeant. The young fighter could feel his racing mind calm and his muscles relaxed.

'Perhaps we could help, officer?' the young gnome asked, smiling charmingly, while Markiss drew another note out of his instrument, and then a gentle, calming sequence of sounds. Ensa frowned, narrowed her eyes at the instrument and opened her mouth, seemingly about to ask something, when Tynan's hand closed round her and Emlyn's elbows. 'Come on,' the ranger muttered. 'Shall we let them deal with this?' Tynan nodded to Markiss – who smiled and inclined his head in return – and then pulled them away.


	11. Alika

_Eighth day after Sun's Height, 30016 DC_

Tynan let Shadow lead the party, and the dark elf steered them rapidly back to the waterfront through Northport's back streets. Privately, Emlyn was impressed – he knew he wouldn't have been able to find his way so surely, even with the slope of the town and the sun burning overhead to help him choose a direction.

'I feel guilty about leaving Jilly and Markiss to explain things to the guards,' the young fighter said, as they stepped out into the blazing sunshine of the main street, blinking. 'We don't even know them that well.'

Tynan grinned at him. 'I wouldn't worry about them. I give it – what, maybe five minutes? – before Jilly has the sergeant eating out of her hand.'

'That man was using magic,' said Ensa, glancing up from where she was feeding Star fragments of bread and making a fuss of the rat. 'At least, I think so. There was something about the way everyone relaxed… I've read about spells like that, with the magic in the music, but I've never seen it done before. I wonder if the instrument itself was enchanted or if he was using it to channel wild power? It's a subtle way to work, because everyone knows that music has its own power anyway, but I should think it would take a lot of skill. I wonder if he could tell me –?' She stopped and glanced over her shoulder as if hoping the bards might still be in sight.

Tynan laughed. 'Don't go back to find out. You're bound to find another chance, and we don't really want to get ourselves mixed up with the guards. They won't do anything to us, but it could result in hours of pointless bureaucracy. Jilly won't get that.'

They wandered absently along the harbour's edge, away from the crowds of the main streets, and sat on a low wall, looking out to where one of the big merchant vessels was beginning to move out, the ship's motion ponderous by contrast to the men who hustled across her decks and the gulls wheeling and screamining overhead.

Ensa turned away, blinking, the dazzle from the water too much for her weak eyes, and caught sight of the fair-haired girl, who'd followed them from the east gate. She had flipped herself upside down, balancing on her hands on the top of the narrow wall, her hair falling in a short wild halo about her head.

Ensa blinked in surprise. 'You _are_ a tumbler. Should you be doing that with your arm?' The half-orc could still see the red blood where someone's blade had sliced across the girl's brown skin.

The girl flexed her wrists and sprang up and back, landing on her feet in the street. 'Of course!' she said, scornfully. 'When I can't do a simple handstand I'll be _dead_.'

'What if you just had a broken arm or something?' Emlyn asked, innocently.

'Very funny. I'd just do _this_, dope.' The girl threw herself forwards again, kicking her legs upwards – but this time she blanced on just one hand, lifting the other from the ground to display her strength and control. She came upright again, barely breathing hard. 'See?'

Emlyn didn't see the glance that Tynan and Shadow exchanged, but Ensa did. She frowned slightly and stroked Star with one finger.

'All right, that was pretty good,' Emlyn said. 'What else can you do?'

'What _else_?' The girl was incredulous. 'If you knew anything about tumbling you would be a lot more impressed. I'm the best!'

Emlyn laughed. 'You're pretty young for that.' By his judgement, the girl was a good few years younger than him – not much more than a child.

'Don't patronise me! I suppose you think you're so good? Well, look at this!' The fair girl bent over backwards until she dropped onto her hands, her body arched, then kicked her legs upwards and flipped them over her head to land standing the right way up a couple of feet from where she had started. Then she did it again, faster, throwing herself over backwards, her feet leaving the ground long before her hands reached it behind her, the glittering silver strip of material in her costume picking up the light and throwing it back dazzlingly into their eyes. Finally she jumped backwards, tucking her body into a tight ball and rolling over in the air before landing smoothly on her feet, poised at the very edge of the walkway. An inch further backwards and she would have tumbled into the harbour.

Emlyn drew in a sharp breath of amazement, and applauded – along with his friends, and the small crowd who had been attracted to the girl's display of talent. 'All _right!_ You _are_ good!'

He meant it honestly, but the girl took it as a forced and grudging acknowledgement and stuck her chin out belligerently. 'Yeah, and I'd like to see you do better! Who's so good now?'

Stung by her reaction to his genuine praise, Emlyn opened his mouth for a hurt retort when Tynan intervened. 'Enough. Why don't you come and sit down and let me take a look at your arm? I can see it isn't serious, but if it gets infected it could be, so it should be cleaned out. What's your name?'

The ranger had flipped open the flap of the pack resting by his knees and lifted out a roll of bandage and his waterskin. The girl's wound had already almost stopped bleeding, so he just tore off a corner of the bandage and soaked it in water to use as a swab.

The fair-haired girl eyed him suspiciously, but despite his weapons and armour Tynan didn't look threatening, so she came over and perched on the wall beside him, holding out her arm. 'I'm Alika Ballari. Is this going to hurt?'

'No.' Tynan began to sponge dried blood off her arm. 'It's not serious enough for me to drag you off to the temple of Amarill and get them to give you a cream to kill off any infection in there. _That_ hurts. I'm Tynan Orn, and for my sins, I'm the responsible one. The huge reprobate with the sword and the armour is my cousin, Emlyn Ulmer, the elf is our friend Shadow, and the lady –' the young acrobat made a slight surprised noise, which Tynan ignored '– is Ensa Dragontongue. Oh, and the rat is called Star. Did I miss anyone?'

'No,' said Ensa. Perhaps she hadn't heard Alika's quiet exclamation, Emlyn decided, glaring angrily at the girl. The wizard certainly didn't look as if she had. But her face wasn't built to show much emotion anyway…

However much she'd heard or realised, Ensa's voice was steady as she carried on, 'Star is quite impressed you remembered her, though.' Everyone looked down at the rat, who had been perched on Ensa's pack sunning herself, but was now sitting up, looking at Tynan with intelligence and an air of smugness. Emlyn shivered a little. It was strange and unsettling to meet an animal like Star, who behaved as if she understood every word said.

'She likes you, Tynan,' said Shadow, and added, deadpan, 'there's no accounting for taste.'

Emlyn frowned. He had to assume that Shadow was joking – but in that flat monotone it just sounded as if the elf was insulting his cousin. He stood up abruptly and moved a few feet down the wall, sitting down with a thud on Ensa's other side and dumping his pack between them.

'Where are you from, Alika?' asked Tynan, casually, ignoring Shadow. Emlyn shifted slightly, annoyed. If it was him he'd have tackled the elf.

Ensa mistook the source of his bad temper. 'Don't you like the little acrobat, then?' she enquired softly.

'Oh, her!' Even through his temper Emlyn remembered to keep his voice down. 'She's just a brat. Still, I can put up with her for a while, and she'll be gone soon.'

'Are you sure?'

Emlyn turned his head sharply to meet her pale, watery eyes. Ensa had raised her hood again to shade herself from the sun and she was watching him from the shadows. 'What do you mean?'

'Are you sure Tynan isn't considering asking her whether she'd like to stick around?'

Emlyn jerked his gaze over to his cousin. Tynan had finished rising out Alika's cut and she had got up and was walking on her hands along the water's edge for the benefit of a small group of urchins who were hanging around this area of the docks. Meanwhile Tynan and Shadow were deep in conversation, glancing over at the young tumbler occasionally.

'Tynan!' he hissed, then dodged round Ensa to get closer to his cousin as the ranger looked round. 'You can't do this! She'll drive me mad! She'll drive us all mad in a few weeks.'

Tynan looked up at his tall cousin, not sure how serious he was. 'You'd get used to it, Emlyn. And she's got skills that might be useful. Besides – she may need us. She's travelling by herself, and I don't think she has _any_ idea of the risks.'

'How is travelling with us going to help her?'

Tynan frowned. 'Come on, Emlyn. Travelling with a large mixed party –'

'But we're not a large mixed party, are we? We're three men. She's been fine so far, I don't suppose she intends to go anywhere especially dangerous, and travelling with us isn't going to help her reputation any. She doesn't even know us, so she'll refuse even if you do ask. Anyone would!'

'He's right there,' Shadow put in, quietly. 'Inviting a lone girl that age along might not be the smartest thing we could do.'

Emlyn was forced to do a quick rethink of his argument. He'd been determined to oppose Alika's joining them. But if Shadow didn't want it, was it possible that it could be a blessing in disguise? 'On the other hand…' he said, slowly, '…that was a brave thing she did, tackling that man back there. I mean, yes, it was foolish, but it was herself she had the most chance of hurting. And she must have nerve or she couldn't pull those stunts.'

Tynan nodded. 'And notice that the first thing she did was put his weapon out of action? She's got sense or she's got training – and either is good for us. And if she refuses to come along… well, at least I'll know she's got some sense! So how about it? Emlyn?'

The young fighter nodded. 'I might be making a mistake, but… let's give her a chance.' He looked defiantly at Shadow.

The elf gave no sign that he'd noticed, keeping his dark eyes, glittering green in the sunlight, on Tynan's face. At last he nodded slowly. 'All right. A chance.'

'Thank you.' Tynan smiled at them. 'We can at least steer her clear of some of the pitfalls.'

'What's all the intense discussion?' Alika called across to them, her voice brash and cheerful. She stood upright again and pushed her short hair out of her face. 'You look very serious.'

'We were wondering if you'd like to come along with us for a bit,' Tynan told her, coolly.

The girl tipped her head on one side, considering. 'I might. Where are you going?'

Tynan shugged. 'Wherever we feel like. We generally just wander. Go any place that seems interesting. Occasionally we have to settle down for a bit and find some work.'

Alika wrinkled her nose up. 'Yeah, all right. Why not?' She sat down on the dirty stonework of the harbour's edge and then, without apparent effort, swept her legs outwards until they formed a perfectly straight line on either side of her body.

Emlyn blinked in disbelief. What for him had been a life changing decision had passed for this girl in a matter of seconds, and she exuded a general air of paying no attention at all.

He had just opened his mouth – to ask _Are you sure you know what you're doing?_ – when Alika beat him to it. She looked up and said, 'So where are we going? And when? I have to get my bag from the inn at the east gate before we leave.'

Tynan laughed. 'I don't know. Where do you want to go? Anyone? Emlyn?'

'I still want to look around Northport,' Emlyn said, quickly. 'We needn't be long. Just a day or two. I want to see the temples. And the City Hall. And the Island Charter.'

Alika groaned. 'You want to go _sightseeing_? I've joined up with a bunch of people who want to go and investigate culture and history and boring stuff like that!'

Emlyn stared at her. 'What do you mean, _boring stuff like that_? Didn't I hear you say you're from Starold? You grew up in the biggest city in the world, the home of the Arcane Academy and the Celestial Tower and Star Keep, and you're _not interested in history_? Some people don't deserve their luck!'

'Yeah, I grew up in the biggest city in the world,' Alika rapped back. 'So I know how to appreciate it. The good thing about a city – about Starold – is that it's full of people and crowds and marketplaces. It's exciting and dynamic, and a performer can pick up a big haul if she's good. There's always people around from different parts of the world and you can hear different languages and it's full of great things to see and smell and touch. _That's_ what's good about a city, none of this 'cultural heritage' stuff – as you'd know if you weren't an ignorant country boy!'

'Hey!' Emlyn drew his breath in sharply. 'You're a fine one to talk, with your big mouth and your prejudice! I come from the nation with the longest tradition of freedom and equality in the whole world, and I'm proud of it – but that isn't going to stop me appreciating the amazing things I can see elsewhere, and you'd do better to keep an open mind and see what _you_ can learn, too!'

'_Stop it_.' Tynan's firm voice cut through the quarrel.

'He started it,' Alika muttered, looking mutinous.

'I don't care who started it! You're arguing over nothing at all. So Emlyn is interested in historical landmarks and Alika isn't. Big deal!' Tynan paused, and then cracked a rueful grin. 'Anyway, don't argue about it, because you are doing the one unforgivable thing, which is making me feel like your parent. Which I am not old enough to be. Not even nearly.'

Emlyn gave him a reluctant smile, feeling sheepish. 'Sorry, Tynan. Sorry, Alika.'

The young acrobat rolled her eyes. 'It's Ali.'

'Sorry?'

'My name. To my family. Even if we only behave like we're related!'

Acting on a sudden impulse, Emlyn caught Tynan's eye and winked swiftly before turning to the girl and giving her a cautious look. 'I never had a sibling. I'm not sure if I want one like you.'

'Hey!' She frowned. 'I'm insulted! That was a very…' She tailed off suspiciously as she caught sight of Emlyn trying to hide a grin, and groaned. 'I don't believe I fell for that.'

'Serious now, let's get this straight,' said Tynan. 'Who wants to come up to the City Hall and have a look at the Island Charter? Emlyn, I assume. Ali not, right?'

'I have a choice?' the girl asked suspiciously, running a hand through her short hair so it stood up in spikes.

'I'm not a drill sergeant,' said Tynan, mildly. 'If you wanted to slope off somewhere then you could meet us later.'

'Oh well, in that case… I s'pose I'll come with you.' Ali wrinkled her nose. 'Then at least I can tell my ma I saw that stuff.'

'Fine. Emlyn, Ali – Ensa. What are you doing? Heading out to Master Eladrissinel's house?'

'Yes, I suppose so.' Ensa was still sitting on the wall in the sunshine with her shoulders hunched up under her robe, and her grating, gravelly voice was uncertain. 'Only I do have this feeling that the Island Charter is one thing I really ought to see, since I'm here, so I don't know…'

'Well, come with us, then,' Tynan said, sensibly. 'You can always head east tomorrow. If that riddle's been unsolved for more than a hundred years, another day isn't going to hurt.'

'Yes, do, Ensa,' added Emlyn. 'Maybe we could get you and Star something to eat?'

Ali glanced up at the sun, which was approaching its peak. 'Maybe we could all have something?' she asked, hopefully.

Tynan laughed. 'All right then, you lot.' He hefted his pack onto his back, and shooed them up the quay with wafting movements of his hands. 'Shall we go?'


	12. A Storm Breaks

_Tenth day after Sun's Height, 30016 DC_

Tynan leant back against the rail of the ferry, twitching irritably at his shirt to try and peel it away from his sweaty body. The air pressed down on him like a great hand, squeezing the air out of his lungs. He mopped his face with his sleeve and took a long drink from his waterskin, glancing up at the ominous golden sheen of the sky. 'Storm's coming.'

'Yes.' Of all the party, Shadow seemed the most unaffected by the heat. Both Tynan and Emlyn had swapped their armour for their lightest clothing, but the elf still wore his chain shirt and his long cloak without apparent discomfort.

Ensa watched him with envy. She had wedged herself firmly into a corner between the luggage and the other passengers, but the crossing from the Inner Isles to the mainland was neither choppy nor dangerous. Instead of feeling sick, Ensa was fighting a raging headache brought on by the heat and the glare. She tugged the hood of her robe over her face and shut her eyes.

Sprawled and panting on the deck beside her, Star was scratchy and irritable. Besides her own problems in the heat, the rat was picking up on Ensa's headache. Slowly, wincing as she moved, Ensa pulled out her waterskin and unstopped it, tilting it on its side so that Star could reach to lap the water, her side fluttering against Ensa's hand with the rhythm of her quick breathing.

It had been a very long day. They could have found passage on a ship from Northport to any of the major ports of the west coast, but in the still, windless air it might take days to reach even Starold, at the north of the great bay which sheltered the Islands. They'd decided instead to make the short trip over to the Inner Isles, then use the series of ferries that connected the close-knit group of Islands to each other and to Port Suthard on Wayrin's coast. But in the heat, the task of moving everyone and their baggage through a series of small towns, harbours reeking of fish rotting in the strong sun, and embarking on one dirty, cramped ferry after another had been like something from a nightmare. Tempers had flared – Ali was now sulking, away at the bows of the ferry, and even Tynan had been irritable. Only Shadow had managed to remain cool and aloof.

Almost, Ensa wished she hadn't come. She'd never made it to Shadryan Eladrissinel's house. She'd been going to – but when it came down to it, it was as Tynan had said. A bit more time before the riddle was solved wasn't going to hurt. She had the rest of her life to investigate it. So, with nothing being said – almost by chance – she'd come aboard. What it was she'd signed up to she had yet to discover precisely. Tynan had given Ali the impression that his life was a sort of amiable drifting from place to place, but Ensa wasn't sure. She couldn't quite match that picture with the impression of decisiveness and calm authority that Tynan gave her. And nothing about Shadow was either amiable or aimless. The half-orc knew that there must be more to their activities than she'd yet seen.

She heard with relief the voices calling from the shore, and the ferry master's voice answering. The broad, shallow-bottomed ferry bumped gently against the quay, and as the crew leapt up to secure ropes in the metal rings pegged into the old stonework, Ensa climbed slowly to her feet and picked up her bag, swinging it onto her back with resigned disgust. At least up in the town, away from the sea, the glare would be less.

'Pass your packs up.' Emlyn had stepped easily out of the gently rocking boat and turned to reach down for his friends' bags. Tynan passed his backpack out and then accepted Emlyn's hand to steady him as he pulled himself up onto the quay before turning to help his cousin collect their bags.

'I'm fine!' Ali gave Emlyn her light pack, but disdained his helping hand, not at all fazed by the ferry's rocking under her feet as she used the rail as a step to help herself onto the shore.

'I'm probably not,' Ensa said. 'Here, take this.' She put Star and her staff into Tynan's hands and then swung her backpack up to Emlyn, who dumped it behind him and reached back to help her up. 'I'm sorry to be a bother. I don't know why I seem to have so much more stuff than anyone else.'

'It's no trouble,' said Emlyn, hauling her up.

Behind him, Ali snorted. She was bored with waiting. 'Hurry _up_,' she begged. 'I want to go and find something to eat.'

'We'll get something as we go up through the city,' Tynan said, peaceably. 'I want to move a little way out of the docks and find a quieter neighbourhood to stay in.'

* * *

The inn that they finally settled on was a tall, thin, respectable-looking building in a leafy residential neighbourhood. The cobbled streets were deserted as people stayed inside to try and avoid the heat. Even the busiest streets they'd passed through had a empty, abandoned air, as brightly coloured canopies over shops and market stalls wilted in the heat and dogs lay panting in the shadows.

_Not that it's much better in here_, thought Ensa, irritably. She felt tired and ill, almost on the verge of tears. _You'd think it would be cooler in the shade, but this humid, muggy air gets everywhere. Even now the sun's gone in it's disgustingly hot_.

They'd stopped for a meal, but Ensa hadn't been able to eat anything. Emlyn and Ali, for once in agreement, had looked at her as if she was crazy, then split Ensa's untouched food between them – at which point Shadow had silently pushed his plate over to the two youngest members of the party. It was the first sign Ensa had seen in him of succumbing to the intense heat and breathlessness. Then again, perhaps in Shadow's case it was merely a comment on the quality of the food.

Tynan had also insisted on stopping at a public fountain and had made everyone drink an entire waterskin before they moved off again. That had least had been sensible; after drinking two litres of water Ensa had felt vaguely better for the first time all day.

She lay back on the inn's hard bed, ignoring the scratchy feel of the rough wool blanket, and shut her eyes, hoping she might doze off.

* * *

Ali would be sharing an inn room with Ensa, but the half-orc wasn't being very interesting company so Ali had left the wizard to lie down in the quiet and joined the three men in their room, where she was hanging out of one of the windows watching the towering thunderclouds moving in from over the sea.

'Those clouds are really quite impressively purple.'

'Let's see.' Tynan came to join her at the window and poked his head out, scanning the sky. 'Yeah, it's going to be a big one. It should lighten the atmosphere a bit, at least.'

The ranger ducked back into the room and glanced around. Dark shadows were gathering in the corners, and Emlyn was straining his eyes as he rummaged through his pack. 'I'll get a light,' Tynan said, and sat down on his own bed, pulling his pack towards him as he hunted for his everburning torch. 'Don't fall out of the window, Ali.'

'As if I would!' the young acrobat said, scornfully. She leant out even further to prove her point, glancing down at the cobbles two stories below with interest. 'Hey, there's a guard patrolling down here. He's gonna catch it when the heavens open.'

'Poor idiot,' said Emlyn. He stood up, stretching out his back and shoulders, finally relieved from the weight of his pack and armour. 'I'm glad we've finished for the day.'

'It's not actually that late,' Tynan pointed out. He finally dragged the torch clear of his bag and everybody blinked in the sudden brightness. 'It only feels like it's late because it's so dark. And because we've had a hot and tiring and stressful day.'

'Wind's getting up,' remarked Ali from the window. When Emlyn looked round at her he saw that her short hair was being tossed around her face by little conflicting gusts of wind.

Tynan glanced up at her. 'Ali, how was Ensa when you last saw her?'

Ali twisted her upper body to face him and opened her mouth to answer, but nobody ever heard what she would have said. Her words were drowned in a colossal crash of thunder.

Everybody jumped. Ali grabbed the window frame with both hands to prevent herself falling out backwards, then twisted back round to look out again, her eyes sparkling. She was just in time to catch sight of a lightning bolt spearing its bright, jagged way across the clouds, and she shouted with elation, leaning out of the window to see better. A second thunderclap, a long, deep rumble, eclipsed the end of Ali's shout, and by the time the others could hear again Ali was calling excitedly over the rising wind, 'It's right overhead, and here comes the rain!'

'Close the shutters, then!' Tynan ordered her, leaping for the other window himself as all sound was suddenly drowned by raindrops hammering on the roof like the spears of a celestial army. The ranger wrestled the wooden shutters across his window and dropped the bar over them, then turned to watch Ali – who had completely ignored the instruction to shut the window – being dragged back into the room by Shadow, who calmly slammed that set of shutters across, stopping the rain lashing in. The sound of the storm diminished a little, as if they had become locked in a little box of brightness and calm.

'Spoilsport,' said Ali, mutinously, shaking her wet hair like a dog. 'I love storms.'

'Hey, don't do that, I'm getting wet!' Emlyn hastily relocated himself to Tynan's side of the room, which had remained relatively dry and tidy, dragging his pack with him.

There was a tap on the door, which then opened. Everyone looked round to see Ensa's green-grey, snoutlike face peering around the door. 'Can I come in?' she asked.

Tynan laughed and sat down on his bed, leaning back against the wall and stretching his legs out. 'Do. You may as well get comfortable,' he advised. 'We're not going anywhere for at least a couple of hours. How are you feeling, Ensa?'

'Much better.' Emlyn shifted up to let Ensa sit on the end of his bed, and she sat down and smoothed the skirts of her robe out around her. 'I dozed off for a while, I think, and at least that awful heat's gone.'

'Yeah, but what are we going to do _now_?' Ali asked.

'Talk,' said Tynan, promptly. 'No choice. Tell stories, if you like. Know any good ones?'

Ali pulled a face. 'I am _awful_ at telling stories. I always forget important bits.'

Thunder crashed again, and Tynan waited for it to die away before he said, 'Well, tell us about yourself then. How old are you?'

'Sixteen.'

Emlyn frowned. 'And your family _let_ you go travelling all over the world?' he asked, incredulously.

'Well, my family is only me and ma and my sister Karenna,' said Ali, 'and to be honest, they weren't that happy about it, but they couldn't really argue because my ma ran away from her home to be a dancer when she was fifteen.'

'Wait,' Shadow leant forwards, making his first contribution to the conversation. 'Your mother was a dancer? Not Marla Ballari?'

'Yes!' Ali turned to the elf, her face lighting up. 'You've heard of her?'

The elf nodded, settling back into his dark corner. 'I saw her once – seventeen or eighteen years ago, in Eldavir. She was good.'

Ali nodded. 'She was at the top back then. That was before she had me and Ren.'

'I've heard of her too,' said Tynan, 'but I was just a boy when she stopped dancing. I used to hear… my mother used to love dancing herself, and I think she'd gone with my father to see a lot of the greats. One of the things I remember most from when I was small is my mother telling me about the Swan, and Ninarika Rossiane and Anwar Des, and Marla Ballari.' He trailed off, face distant as he tried to recapture memories, and Emlyn heard very clearly the rain beating against the shutters.

He said hesitantly, 'I never met my aunt Brisa. What was she really like, Tynan?'

Tynan smiled quietly. 'Different. She… wasn't like your father. He was a fine man, and a good fighter, straight as a die and no nonsense about him, and all the rest of her family was like that. Mother was light and finely built and pretty, and she loved to laugh. Her family loved her fiercely, but I don't think they ever really understood her. I think in a way it was a relief when she married my father and moved to the other side of Wayrin. That way they could keep on loving her, without having her strange wild ways and her fey temperament to deal with.'

'You talk about your mother in a very strange way,' Ali announced. 'I mean, I know my mother was a great dancer, and famous, and all, but to me she's just the woman who used to bandage me up when I fell down and nag me about tidying up. But you talk like you were watching her from the outside, like she was this fairy creature even to you.'

'She was,' said Tynan, thoughtfully. 'I mean… a lot of this is retrospective. My mother died a long time ago, when I was quite young, so my father mostly brought me up. But even when she was there… when she died I was upset, but not that surprised. I just thought she'd danced away over the next hill the way it always seemed like she was going to. It wasn't until later that I started to wonder why she never came back.'

'She would never have been a professional dancer,' said Ali, firmly. 'My mother is the most down to earth person imaginable. To stay at the top you have to practice all the time. You have to be disciplined and determined. Dancing _looks_ effortless and dreamy and floaty, but even a fighter doesn't have muscles like a first class dancer.'

'You sound like you speak from experience,' Ensa commented.

Ali nodded. 'You bet! _I'm_ a professional, remember. When I left home my ma's last piece of advice was 'Stretch thoroughly every day and practice for at least an hour.''

Tynan laughed. 'I got 'Be kind and courteous and don't forget to come home sometimes.' I think my father hoped I'd give up this whole adventuring thing and settle down back home.'

'Where's 'back home'?' Ensa asked him.

'The Wolf Country. Right up north, in between the Great Forest and the mountains,' Tynan told her. 'How about you?'

The half-orc shrugged. 'Not that far from you. In the northern mountain range. But I wouldn't call it home.'

Star growled slightly, pressed against Ensa's neck, and Ensa glanced round at her, half smiling, and switched the subject. 'Where are you from, Shadow? Eldavir?'

'Yes!' Emlyn sounded antagonistic even to himself, and tried to moderate his tone a bit. 'Why don't you tell us something about yourself?'

There was a silence and a collective indrawn breath as everyone looked at the elf to see how he would react, but Shadow ignored the turning heads. In the orange torchlight his eyes, fixed on the young fighter's face, looked like opaque black pools in his white face. Emlyn felt his angry resolve withering under the elf's cool superiority.

'I'm not going to tell you where I'm from,' Shadow said, flatly. Not a muscle in his face twitched. 'I don't belong there any more, and I'm not interested in raking up the past. Any of it.'

Silence fell again. Emlyn, blushing furiously and ducking away into a corner wasn't in any state to notice, but Tynan suddenly realised that it was true silence. He climbed to his feet and cautiously unbarred one pair of shutters. When no gust of wind and rain slammed them open, he pushed them apart and looked out. 'Storm's over,' he said, neutrally.

The ranger crossed the room and opened the other pair of shutters, flooding the room with watery daylight that dimmed the light of the torch. 'It's clearing up. I think it's maybe even trying to be sunny again. Does anyone want to come for a stroll around the city before dinner?'

'I'll come,' said Ensa, relieved at the break in the tension. She climbed to her feet, coaxing Star out onto her shoulder as she did so.

'Yeah, I'll come too,' Emlyn said.

Tynan caught Shadow's eye and the elf shrugged and nodded. Ali saw him, and got to her feet. 'I'll come as well, then. We'll all come, Tynan.'

Tynan nodded. 'Right. Let's get ready then.'


	13. The Menagerie

_Tenth day after Sun's Height, 30016 DC_

The streets were wet after the storm and the cobbles gleamed in the pale, bright daylight. The air felt fresh and clean, and Tynan was glad he'd remembered to swing his cloak over his shoulders before they set off.

Ali was enjoying the cool brightness and the sense of being set free of the little enclosed room; she laughed and pulled a little ahead of the others, interspersing her walking with cartwheels and other tumbling tricks, as often upside down as the right way up. Emlyn, still too annoyed and embarrassed to talk to anyone, stalked off after her, and Shadow dropped back, stringing the party out into a straggling line.

Ensa found herself walking in the center with Tynan, enjoying the breeze and the dimmer light that was a relief to her eyes after the glaring sunlight they'd been experiencing for so long. She glanced across at the ranger, who was walking without paying much attention to where he was going, looking anxious and unhappy. Ensa petted Star with one finger, wondering if she could help.

'Er, Tynan,' she said, diffidently, 'without wishing to cast any aspersions, if I was Emlyn then I'd think you were ducking out of a confrontation back then.'

The ranger didn't answer for so long that Ensa wondered if he'd even heard her quiet comment and looked round at him again. She could hear the distant rumble of traffic and shrill gulls squawking overhead, but their immediate area was empty and quiet.

'Maybe I was,' said Tynan eventually, bitterly. 'Maybe I am. I don't know what else to do.'

'It isn't going to solve any problems in the long term.'

Tynan sighed. 'I hoped if I could just keep the peace for a while then they'd get used to each other. Dodging a confrontation may be the coward's way out, but I can't see another answer. I don't want either of them to get hurt.'

'Some people feel better after they have an argument. They feel things are out in the open.' Ensa frowned. 'Emlyn might, I think.'

Tynan shook his head. 'Shadow won't fight him. I know what you mean, but Emlyn will just feel worse if he tries. I wish…' He trailed off, staring into the distance.

Ensa waited a second, then asked, 'You wish what?'

'Oh, I don't know. That Emlyn had more patience, I suppose. Or that Shadow would compromise a bit.'

'I might wish for the stars,' Ensa said dryly, 'but I don't expect them to fall into my lap.'

'Exactly. It isn't going to happen. So…' He shrugged. 'I don't know. We carry on, and I pray for the opportunity to show them why I care about both of them.'

Ensa wandered along in silence for a while, watching Ali's antics up ahead. The fair girl was chattering to Emlyn – who seemed to have recovered a bit – not breaking or slowing her conversation as she threw herself head over heels forwards or kicked her legs up to walk along for a few paces on her hands. Their voices floated back indistinctly to Ensa, who occasionally picked up clear words or phrases.

'What about you?'

Tynan turned his head. 'How do you mean?'

'If it all goes completely to pieces… what are you going to do? Who'll you stick with if they won't travel together?'

The ranger shuddered. 'Eleven know.'

'I suppose you can't really leave Emlyn. If he's determined to take up adventuring… he couldn't take care of himself.'

'No. But I can't leave Shadow, either, Ensa. I mean that. Abandoning him would be… it would be the worst thing I've ever done.'

Ensa frowned. 'He doesn't act like he needs looking after,' she said, dryly.

'He _doesn't_ need looking after, he just _thinks_ –' Tynan caught himself and shook his head. 'I'm not going to explain. It's his story. But take my word for it.'

'Tynan!'

Shadow's quiet call made them both turn their heads. The elf had crossed to the other side of the road and was looking down a side street. 'What's wrong?' Tynan asked.

'Nothing.' Shadow turned his head back to his friend. 'I just thought you'd want to see this.' He nodded down the little road.

'Why, what is it?' Tynan started to head across to the elf, turning his head as he went to call, 'Emlyn! Ali!' Ensa silently followed the ranger across the road, the wet cobbles smooth and slippery beneath her boots.

'A menagerie,' Shadow told Tynan quietly. 'And not a very nice looking one, either. Three from the end, see it?'

Ensa looked down the little street. At the far end it obviously opened out onto one of the main throughfares of the city, for she could just see a broad, brightly lit street with people hurrying up and down it, but the road they were looking down was empty. It was host to a number of small, shabby-looking shops. The one Shadow had indicated was one of the dirtiest, with paint peeling away from its ancient woodwork and an air of disrepair and neglect. Ensa could barely read the faded sign above its door. She was impressed that Shadow had spotted the little shop at all.

'What are we looking at?' asked Ali, brightly, arriving behind them.

Nobody answered her – Shadow because silence was a habit, Ensa because she wasn't entirely sure herself, and Tynan because he wasn't there. The ranger was already ten feet away, striding towards the grubby little shop with an air of purpose and direction that had been entirely missing as he talked to Ensa a few minutes before. Surprised, Ensa stood still for a moment, then gathered her wits and hurried after him.

* * *

By the time Emlyn caught up with his cousin, Tynan was peering into the menagerie through a gap in the broken shutter that was propped across the shop's main window.

Tynan hissed angrily through his teeth as his cousin came up behind him, flinging himself away from the window and going to the door. Shadow had already tried the handle. 'It's locked,' he said. 'Tynan, I'll –'

Tynan ignored the elf. He kicked at the warped door, and when splinters flew off set his shoulder aginst the wood and shoved. The lock ripped out of the half-rotten wood, leaving a jagged and splintered hole, and Tynan pushed the door wide and stepped inside.

'Tynan! What's –' Emlyn began, but broke off as he caught sight of the ranger's face. Tynan's features were rigidly set, his lips compressed so tightly that they were white and his eyes glittering with anger. Shocked and suddenly nervous, Emlyn took half a step back. He had never realised that his cousin could get angry like this – so angry that he was frightening. 'Tynan…'

The ranger ignored him and headed into the shop's shadowy interior, making his way towards the inside of the window, where he'd seen whatever it was that so infuriated him. Confused, Emlyn followed. He almost gagged as he made his way into the cramped little room. The darkness was full of an almost overpowering stench of animal waste. All around him piles of crates and cages towered ceiling high, some precariously balanced. As they stepped in, Emlyn could hear a number of rustling sounds all round him, and near the ceiling a bird squawked quietly. Somewhere in the shop a small animal whined pitifully.

'Can we get a light?' Ali complained, behind him. 'I can't see a thing. Ensa, make yourself useful.'

'I don't have a _light_ spell prepared,' Ensa said, mildly. Emlyn would have thought she'd ignored Ali's peremptory tone if she hadn't added, '_I_ can see fine.'

'Yeah, well –' Ali began, but broke off as a light flared and she turned her head away, blinking.

Emlyn looked over to the source of the light. Shadow was holding a torch – a real torch, Emlyn could smell the tiny trace of smoke – as Tynan, who was crouching on his haunches, unlatched the wire cage that was sitting on the broad ledge below the window. As Emlyn stepped closer, he could see that the cage held a thin and pitiful puppy which was silently pressing itself back against the bars and shivering. Emlyn was no expert, but even he could see that the little animal was in a bad condition – he could count all of its ribs, and as it scrabbled its paws in an attempt to press itself further away he could see the floor of the cage squelching beneath its feet. The puppy was standing in its own waste.

'It's all right, little one,' Tynan murmured, as he reached slowly towards the frightened young animal. 'I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help you. I'm going to take you away – and all the other animals here, too, if they're treated anything like you are. Come on, come here.'

Gradually the ranger's flood of quiet reassurances soothed the little puppy, which allowed Tynan to reach out to it. Ignoring the animal's filthy, smelly condition, Tynan gathered the puppy into his arms. 'There you go! You're going to be all right now.'

As Tynan straightened up with the young dog in his arms, Emlyn heard hurried footsteps from the back of the shop. He turned his head in time to see a door behind the counter open, spilling torchlight through into that half of the shop.

'What's going on here?' demanded a whining, nasal voice. The owner of the voice, a scrawny little man in a jerkin a few sizes too big for him stuck his nose around the door and stepped into the room. 'I'm armed, I tell you!'

'So am I,' said Tynan, quietly.

The little man's mouth dropped open as he surveyed the party. Although Emlyn had left his sword at the inn, the young fighter was big enough to make two of him and could probably lay him out with his bare hands. Shrouded in his black cloak, Shadow was sinister and mysterious. Ensa, not above using her heritage even though she disliked it, contorted her misshapen, orc-like face into a vicious scowl, displaying all her yellow, fang-like teeth. But even though he was only of a moderate size and his hands were full of dirty dog, Tynan's set face and burning eyes were the truly frightening thing about the group, and it was the sight of the ranger that caused the little man to step back, spluttering.

'I… I… I'll have the law on you!' he managed, even as he tried to sidle away through the door he'd entered by.

'I don't think so,' Tynan said, and although he was still quiet there was something in the level quality of his voice that made the puppy in his arms shiver and whine. 'I think it much more likely that _I_ will have the law on _you_. We're going now, because I think it's unlikely that we can carry every mistreated animal in this room by ourselves, but we will be back for them – and it would be extremely unfortunate for you if anything happened to the animals in the meantime. Except perhaps a thorough clean out and a proper feed. Do I make myself clear?'

'I… uh… y… you can't come in here and tell me things like that!' Even as he cowered back against the wall, the peeling plaster flaking away even more as he shook against it, the shopkeeper managed to find some traces of courage.

'I _said_, do I make myself clear?' Tynan stepped forwards, finally raising his voice a notch. The little man squeaked.

'Yes, uh, yes, perfectly,' he stammered out.

'Good.' Tynan fixed him with his eyes for a couple of seconds more and then abruptly spun on his heel. 'Let's go.'

'Er, Tynan?' asked Emlyn, once they were safely out on the street again. The ranger was striding purposefully through the gathering dusk, the puppy safely held in his arms and his cloak billowing behind him. His four friends hurried along at his heels. 'Where exactly are we going?'

'Temple of Arcaren,' Tynan said, shortly, without pausing his rapid strides.

'And – won't we find it hard to prove that he's been mistreating the animals? If he cleans them out and stuff, like you said.'

For a minute Emlyn thought he saw his cousin give a hard little smile. 'No.'

'I know he won't be able to remove all the traces of neglect,' said Ensa, anxiously, from Tynan's other side. 'But he will be able to get rid of a lot of the evidence, won't he?'

'No,' said Tynan, and finally unbent enough to elaborate. 'I'm holding the evidence.'

'The puppy! Of course.'

'Not any old puppy, either,' Tynan said, grimly. 'Unless I'm totally wrong, this is a fleet dog puppy. They're not native to these regions – they come from the shores of the Golden Lake, and they're rare, almost dying out. And trade in their cubs is completely illegal.'

* * *

Even late in the evening, the the temple of Arcaren was fully lit and busy. The big entrance hall, with its huge vaulted ceiling, was awash with sound and activity – which abruptly stopped as Tynan stormed in carrying the half-starved puppy and demanded to see the High Priest. Then it began again in a different way, as someone ran off to find the High Priest while another group swirled around Tynan and his friends. A pretty young healer with dark hair lifted the little puppy out of Tynan's arms and took it away somewhere, presumably to be cleaned up and fed, while they were asked to wait in a reception room sparkling in gold and green. Emlyn felt suddenly aware of his travel-stained and well-worn clothing.

The High Priest came in and listened to what Tynan had to say, asking them all for confirmation of his story every so often. Then he bustled out again to give some orders. 'I'll be back shortly,' he promised them. 'Don't go away.'

He left and they waited. A little while later a boy in pale green novice robes that were too short for him brought them a small tray of refreshments. Emlyn noticed that his wrists jutted a good two inches clear of his sleeves.

By the time the High Priest returned they were all bored. Ali was practicing her handstands against the wall, not seeming to care that her boots left faint muddy smears on the delicate tiling. Shadow had propped himself up in a corner, seemingly asleep on his feet, although his eyes flickered open every time footsteps passed in the corridor outside. Ensa was murmuring quietly to Star. Tynan was sitting on a bench in the centre of the room, still recovering from his anger. Not sure what to do, Emlyn sat down beside him. He stared vaguely at the mosaics on the walls – depicting repetitive woodland, meadow and mountain scenes with a variety of plants, animals and people, he supposed they were displaying the charges of the Lord of Life.

They all turned round when the door opened, and the high priest stepped back into the room, pushing back the wide hood of his deep green robe to reveal shaggy grey hair. He smiled tiredly at the group. 'It's dealt with,' he told them. 'For the moment. The animals have been brought up here for care, and we'll see about finding homes for them or releasing them into the wild. My colleague at Koron's temple is housing the shopkeeper for the night, but we've sent a message down to the guards and they'll pick him up in the morning and begin the prosecution process.'

'Good.' Tynan had cooled down slightly, but he still wasn't in a forgiving mood.

The high priest shook his head. 'No. He'll get off.'

'What?'

The priest sighed. 'Mind if I sit down?' He didn't wait for an answer, but sat on the bench opposite Tynan and Emlyn and poured himself a glass of water. 'Didn't you wonder how a shabby establishment like his had a valuable animal like that fleet dog pup?' Shadow shifted, but he didn't say anything when the priest looked up at him, so the older man carried on. 'He also had a parrot – a brightly coloured bird from the far south – and a pair of very young velociraptors, just out of the egg.'

'Velociraptors?' Ensa asked.

'Sorry. They're reptiles, fast little lizard-like things with sharp teeth. They can stand up on their hind legs and they grow to be about as high as your knee. They're vicious; they make good guards, but you wouldn't want one as a pet. But the point I'm trying to make is that he had some really valuable assets in those animals, but he didn't care enough to look after them properly. To him they were easy to get hold of – and I have a pretty sure idea where they came from, but if I took the man to court I'd never get a conviction.'

'Why not?'

'Money.' The high priest frowned. 'And fear. There's a halfling called Mingun Varturan, who's new money in Port Suthard – flash type, throws coin around like water, but ten years ago no one knew who he was. I know he's running a poaching ring and carting the animals into the city to sell at a profit, but I can't touch him.'

'Your magistrate's on the take?' Tynan asked, sharply.

'Not exactly… As far as I know, he's not actually taking bribes from Varturan – but he _is_ too scared of the halfling's muscle to sentence his men.'

'What about Varturan himself?' That was Shadow's quiet contribution.

The high priest looked up at them from under his heavy brows. 'That's a different matter. If he could see the halfling imprisoned and powerless, then I might be able to get somewhere. But I don't have the strength…' He trailed off meaningfully, and Shadow laughed mockingly.

'I knew you wouldn't have told us unless you wanted something. That's it? Varturan delivered?'

'Shadow,' said Tynan, warningly. Then he turned back to the high priest. 'It's late and we're all tired. Why don't you give us what you know about this Varturan, and we'll go away and think about whether we could get anywhere tackling him? We'll come back in the morning and tell you what we decide.'


	14. Planning

_Eleventh day after Sun's Height, 30016 DC_

Emlyn wanted to examine and discuss the package of papers that the High Priest gave them straight away, but he was disappointed. 'We need to approach this with clear heads,' Tynan said, firmly. 'We'll take a look through in the morning.'

'But we said we'd tell him what we'd decided in the morning!' Emlyn protested.

'He can wait for us, Emlyn. We're doing him a favour, not the other way round.'

* * *

All the same, Tynan found time for a few quiet words with Shadow as they walked back through the dark streets to their inn.

'I was right, he's using us,' the elf said, in an undertone that nobody except the ranger heard. 'See the way he had that dossier all prepared?'

'Uh-huh.' Tynan nodded in agreement. 'But in a good cause, it seems. We'll go along with it for now, Shadow. But keep your eyes open.'

* * *

'What have I missed?' Tynan asked. He frowned at the piece of parchment he was holding. 'This says that Varturan often accompanies his caravans, and that he typically has only four guards. That sounds… suspiciously easy.'

'I think the parchment you need is this one,' Ensa said dryly, waving it. 'The one that says the halfling has two tame dire tigers.'

That brought an instant hush to the party. '_Two dire tigers?_' Tynan asked, incredulously.

'That's what it says. Isn't it a good thing we decided to read this thoroughly? Our friend the High Priest obviously didn't think that this was worth putting in big letters on the first page.'

'We can't fight that,' said Tynan, regretfully. 'Looks like we're going to have to refuse the commission.'

'Does it say how he controls the tigers?' Shadow asked. 'They have handlers, or…?'

'Wait a second, let me check…' Ensa bent back over the High Priest's notes. 'It says… Varturan possesses an _amulet of animal handling_. He directs them himself, using it.'

'What is an _amulet of animal handling_?' Ali demanded, petulantly. Ensa glanced up at her. The young acrobat, bored with examining paperwork, had abandoned the others to the sheets of parchment spread out in the center of the room and was perched in the window ledge again, looking out into the street and listening to the conversation inside with half an ear.

'Not entirely sure,' Ensa told her. 'I guess it lets him control animals. I suppose if you tied a _speak with animals_ spell and a _command creature_ to an amulet you might get something of the right sort. It'd be hard to do, though.'

'But without the amulet he wouldn't be in control?' The elf recalled the wizard's attention.

'I shouldn't think so.'

Shadow shrugged. 'Then there's an obvious answer, isn't there? Varturan should cease to possess the amulet.'

'Oh, yes, obvious, isn't it!' said Emlyn, exasperated. 'Are you hoping it's going to disappear into thin air?'

The elf ignored this comment and looked at Tynan, who said, 'Can you do it, Shadow?'

'Where does Varturan live?'

'There was a map somewhere,' said Ensa, looking around. 'Where –? Oh, thanks, Star.' The rat, perched on the edge of the table they were using, had nosed aside a couple of pieces of parchment and dragged out the map from underneath. Ensa moved it to the center of the table and laid it out flat for everyone to see. 'Varturan's got a warehouse down in the docks where the caravan will likely set off from, but he lives uptown.' She pointed with a stubby grey finger.

Shadow nodded. 'I'll go and check it out.'

'Wait…' said Tynan, slowly. The ranger glanced out of the window. Outside puffy white clouds were scudding across the sky, propelled by a brisk breeze. 'You'll be several hours, Shadow?'

'I'd like to watch until I get some idea of who's in the house.'

Tynan nodded. 'But we don't want to waste time while we wait. Which gate did it say the caravan would leave through, Ensa? Toward Shara?' The half-orc nodded, and Tynan continued, 'If we do decide to take this commission, the obvious thing to do is going to be to ambush Varturan's outgoing caravan – with no animals in it to worry about. We don't want to do it in the city, because who knows who might intervene on either side, so it's going to be out on that south road somewhere. But I don't know the road at all. Does anyone…?' He glanced round them all, saw everybody shaking their heads and carried on. 'So I think if Shadow's going to be busy all day then the rest of us should take a little expedition down that way and see if there's anywhere at all suitable as an ambush site. We'll take all our gear; might camp out down there if we take all day over it.'

'What are we going to tell the High Priest?' Ensa asked, sensibly.

'Good thought. Ali, could you run up to the temple of Arcaren and tell him – politely! – that we need a little more time than we thought to investigate the circumstances before we can tell him if we can handle his commission?'

'Sure,' said the acrobat, jumping down into the room. 'Now?'

'Please. Take your stuff, as well, and when you're done head south and meet us on the road.'

Ali grimaced, but obediently shouldered her pack and slipped out of the room. They heard her clattering away downstairs, and Shadow said, 'I'll be off too, then,' and climbed to his feet.

Tynan looked up at him. 'Take care of yourself and don't do anything stupid.'

A well-disposed observer might have imagined that a smile lurked at the back of Shadow's eyes. 'Do I ever?'

'Yes – often!' Tynan retorted, but then relented and grinned. 'We'll see you later.'

'You will,' promised Shadow, and slipped away, wrapping his cloak around himself and shutting the door silently behind him.

'Right,' said Tynan. 'Shall we collect all these papers together?'

* * *

Walking down the broad, well-made road with his cousin and Ensa, Emlyn was astonished to realise how much his spirits had risen. Port Suthard's main streets had been full of hurrying people, and although Emlyn enjoyed looking around him and watching what was going on, it was hardly what he would call comfortable. Out to the south of the city, the road cut its way through gentle hills that were rising up ahead of him to become the mountains of Shara, and around him in the sloping fields the wheat was just ripening from green into gold. Sun and shadows chased each other across the fields, and the tall wheat itself swayed and bowed in the wind, rippling and moving like water. It reminded Emlyn of his home – although it was strange not to have the salty tang of the sea in his nostrils.

He looked across at his companions and smiled, and Ensa smiled back. Like Emlyn, the wizard was glad to be free of the city. Like other human-dominated cities, Port Suthard was tolerant of half-orcs, but Ensa had caught a few shocked or frightened glances from passers-by, and she knew it was no coincidence that even on the most crowded street she was never jostled or pushed aside. _Maybe I should head back north, where people are more used to… well, to people like me_, she thought. _But why should I have to? I didn't ask to be what I am_.

Emlyn had no idea what Ensa was thinking, but he saw that she looked preoccupied so he nudged her to get her attention before flicking his head forwards at Tynan. The ranger, whose easy strides had carried him ahead of his two companions, had his head twisted upwards as he walked along, watching a large bird circling high above the road. Emlyn grinned. He remembered a long ago summer when Tynan had visited Goldisle and the two boys had discovered a mouse building its nest in the corner of the Top Field. Emlyn – who couldn't have been as much as ten years old – had soon got bored and wandered away, but the teenage Tynan had lain on his stomach in the grass for hours, just watching the little creature.

'What are you smiling about?' the ranger asked, suspiciously. He didn't get an answer; for some reason the information that Tynan was a lot more alert than he looked sent Emlyn into whoops of laughter.

Ensa hit him gently. 'Ignore him,' she told Tynan, loftily. 'Mere childishness.'

'Hey!' Emlyn pushed Ensa across the road. 'You're a fine one to talk, grandma!'

Ensa drew herself up sniffishly. 'I am deeply wounded by your unfounded accusation… you know, this would be a lot easier if you weren't so much taller than me.' She pulled a face up at Emlyn. 'It's so hard to get the proper air of superiority.'

'How old _are_ you, anyway?' Emlyn asked, and Tynan laughed, waving a finger at his young cousin reprovingly.

'Now, now, Emlyn, don't you know better than to ask a lady her age?'

'_You_ asked Ali,' Emlyn reminded him.

Tynan grinned at him. 'There's an obvious answer to that, which in Ali's absence I'll refrain from.'

'I heard that!' Ali's clear voice called from behind them, and they all turned to see the young acrobat approaching from the direction of the city. Once she saw that they'd noticed her the fair girl grinned and threw herself into a series of flips to land neatly in the middle of the little group, slightly flushed and off balance. 'That's harder with my backpack on,' she remarked, brushing grit and dirt off her hands.

'Unsurprisingly,' Ensa told her.

Ali ignored the half-orc, looking at Tynan. 'What are we doing?' she asked, cheerfully.

'At the moment, not a great deal. What we are _supposed_ to be doing is scouting out along this road for potential ambush sites.'

'Right.' Ali grinned and bounced off up ahead. Ensa and Tynan followed, but Emlyn dragged behind, suddenly frowning.

Tynan glanced at his cousin's face, and then slipped back to walk beside him. 'What's wrong?'

Emlyn sighed. 'I don't like it. I know that this Varturan's a criminal, but… if I understood you and Shadow right, then we're going to try and rob him and then ambush him. It just doesn't seem…'

'Fair?' asked Tynan, dryly.

Emlyn shook his head. 'Not exactly. I was going to say, honest.'

Tynan nodded, dark eyes considering. 'I know what you mean, Emlyn. But think about it – if we took on Varturan and his people – and his tigers – in a straight fight, then we'd lose. There's no question of it. It's likely that we'd be killed or badly injured, and I won't have that. I'm damned well going to get all of us through alive. We _should_ go back to the High priest and tell him it's too much for us – but I want to stop Varturan, Emlyn. That kind of cruelty – exploiting animals for profit, and not even treating them right, like they can't even be _bothered_ if they lose them – really makes me angry. So if I have to go about it in this underhand way, but it lets me stop him, which I otherwise couldn't do, then I'm fine with it.'

'I _know_,' said Emlyn, impatiently. 'I understand all that, and I can see it's probably the only way, but… I just don't like it, all right?'

Tynan gave him a rueful smile. 'You don't have to. I don't think Ensa's up in the heavens about it, either.'

'What about Ali?'

Tynan raised his eyebrows. 'Well,' he said, cautiously, 'I suspect that she either doesn't mind or she hasn't thought about it at all. I mean… she doesn't _look_ bothered, does she?' They both looked forwards to where the acrobat, full of energy, was just dashing around a corner of the road and out of sight.

'Well, no –' Emlyn began, and broke off as the person in question gave an unintelligible shout from the distance. 'Oh, no, what's she up to now?'

* * *

Fortunately for their peace of mind, Ali hadn't managed to get herself into any kind of trouble. Where she had stopped, the road swung round between two hills in a kind of sunken lane. Tynan checked as soon as he saw it, looking at the ground either side of the hill with a measuring eye, but Emlyn and Ensa carried on, looking at Ali's discarded pack lying on the side of the road and wondering where the acrobat had got to.

'Up here!' Beside the road was a large boulder, set half into the hillside and looming over the road. From its top, ten feet above the packed earth surface of the road, Ali waved cheerfully.

'How did you get up there?' Tynan asked, amused.

'Climbed. But I needn't have bothered.' Ali jerked her thumb over her shoulder. 'It's really easy to get up from behind – just three or four feet to scramble and you're up.'

'Well, come down, and let's talk things over,' Tynan ordered. 'Ali's right,' he said, turning to the others, 'this looks like a good spot. Ensa, if you've got some ranged spells prepared then you could sit on top of that boulder and fire them off, and the only thing you'd have to worry about would be arrows.'

Ensa smiled faintly at the ranger's description of her 'firing off' her spells, but nodded. A slithering sound followed by a light thump heralded Ali's descent from the boulder, and she joined the group, brushing down her clothes.

'Right, Ali,' Tynan said. 'I saw that you carry a bow, but can you use a sword at all?'

'No,' said Ali, promptly. 'But I'm a fantastic shot, if that helps.'

'Well, you'd better shoot then,' Tynan said. 'You've a shortbow, haven't you – one of those Sharan-style composites?'

'Yeah, that's right. Fifty-five pound draw.'

'Fifty-five?' Tynan was sidetracked. 'That's pretty powerful for someone your age.'

'I know. It's like I said – no one has muscles like a dancer. Or an acrobat.' Ali grinned smugly.

'Right. I only asked, because with a shortbow – what's the string length, three and a half feet?'

'Bit less.'

'Well, I think you should join Ensa up on that boulder.' Tynan nodded at it. 'Since you like climbing so much. But you'll be able to kneel down and shoot that thing, and duck out of sight if you have to. It won't get in your way like a longbow would.'

'Sure thing.' Ali grinned. 'So I guess you won't be joining us up there with your stick, then?'

'No.' Tynan smiled. 'If you're as good a shot as you say you are, Ali, I'd only make a fool of myself, because I've never been above average. Emlyn and I are going to have to hold the front line.' He glanced up at his cousin. 'That all right?'

Emlyn nodded. 'I don't know what else I could do.'

'I think we could conceal ourselves somewhere on the other side of the road.' Tynan strolled over to have a look at the uneven, grassy hillside. 'Behind that earth mound is the obvious place, see it? It's a bit further back from the road than I like, but at least that'll mean it won't be so important if we make a noise. Ali and Ensa are going to have to lie on top of that boulder and be absolutely still and silent.'

Ali groaned. 'It's all right. I can do it,' she said, heroically.

'This is all hypothetical so far,' Ensa reminded her. 'We might still have to call the whole attack off.'

'Yes, where's Shadow got to?' Emlyn demanded. 'It must be hours since he left, because _we_ didn't exactly hurry.'

'You're right; we can't really plan any more until he gets here,' Tynan said. 'Let's dive off the road to one side and set up camp. Shadow will find us.'

* * *

The light had thickened into the deep gold of a summer dusk before Shadow arrived, slipping silently into their little camp.

'What's the verdict?' Tynan asked.

'Yes. And you'll want to know – a caravan is setting out tomorrow. Three ox carts, their drivers, two additional guards, and Varturan.'

'_Tomorrow?_' Tynan bit his lip. 'That doesn't give us very long.'

'It's no good waiting, though,' Ensa pointed out. 'According to what the High Priest gave us, if Varturan goes out on a caravan now he might not be back until near Winter's Gate.'

Tynan frowned. 'I don't like to be rushed like this. We need more time to plan.' He looked up at Shadow. 'It'll be you most danger falls on. Have _you_ got time?'

The elf nodded. 'I'm going back now.'

Ensa frowned. 'Wait – what if Varturan doesn't come, or even cancels the caravan, when he knows he's lost the amulet?'

'We stop whatever comes through, and if Varturan's not there then we apologise and let them carry on without hurting them,' Tynan said. 'And then we hand it over to the High Priest and the guards. That's not what's worrying me.'

'I'll be back with the amulet before the caravan comes through,' Shadow said. 'So you know I managed it. It's meant, Tynan – a caravan setting off as soon as we're ready for it.'

Tynan pressed his lips together, looking as though he was suppressing a sharp retort. 'If you really want to go through with it, then I suppose we can manage. Good luck.' He gripped Shadow's shoulder.

'And Lady's favour on you.' Shadow's hand closed firmly over Tynan's for an instant, and then the elf turned and disappeared into the gathering dusk.


	15. Surprise Attack

_Twelfth day after Sun's Height, 30016 DC_

Emlyn dozed fitfully on the hard ground, half-waking to roll over before dropping off to sleep again. Tynan had decided that it was not necessary to set a watch in the civilized countryside, and whenever he woke up he could see the humped and shrouded forms of his friends, firmly asleep in the not-quite-dark of the summer night.

It annoyed Emlyn to discover that, of everyone, he was the least able to sleep on the ground. Even Ali had dropped off without any difficulty. Emlyn wriggled further down inside his bedroll, dragging his blanket tighter round his shoulders, and then lay still, determined not to shift around and wake himself up any further. Soon he began to drift away again.

By the time the sky overhead began to brighten into a pre-dawn pale grey, Emlyn was familiar with every lump and hollow of the ground where he had chosen to lie. He hadn't camped out since he was a boy playing at being an adventurer, and he didn't remember it being quite so uncomfortable. He was surprised at how awake he felt when the morning eventually came; he must have slept for longer than he'd realised.

Campcraft under Tynan's supervision was practical and efficient. As the sun rose over the lip of the sheltered hollow where they'd camped and began to dry the dew on the grass and the surface of their bedrolls, Emlyn chewed on a strip of dried meat and began to feel more cheerful. Ali was buoyant too; although the young acrobat stayed wrapped in her blankets until Tynan forcibly tipped her out, she bounced straight to her feet and began to eat perfectly happily. As Emlyn watched, Ali finished her breakfast, wiped her hands down her trousers, and strolled over to a clear patch of ground, where she began a series of stretches, contorting her body in ways that seemed fantastic to the young fighter.

'Ali, what are you doing?' he demanded, amused.

Ali – who had been sitting on the ground and resting her forehead on one outstretched leg while she held her foot in her hands – lifted her head, propping her elbows on the grass in between her outspread legs, and said, 'Practising, of course.'

'Oh, right,' said Emlyn, feeling rather at a loss. Ali had talked about the need for stringent practice in her profession, but he hadn't seen any sign of discipline in her before and had been inclined to think that it was just talk. He looked over at Ensa, wondering if she felt the same way, but the wizard hadn't even noticed the little exchange. The half-orc was sitting cross-legged on the ground, poring over the open spellbook in her lap. Emlyn could see Star's whiskers quivering as the rat, perched on one of Ensa's knees, divided her attention between the spellbook and her surroundings.

Emlyn hadn't travelled with the wizard for three days without learning that it was useless to try and talk to Ensa while she was intent on memorising and preparing spells – in fact the rigid set of her shoulders and back bore witness to the half-orc's effort and concentration on the task – so Emlyn glanced at his cousin, wondering if Tynan also had a morning routine to complete.

It didn't take any intelligence to spot that Tynan was plainly worried. Having finished eating, the ranger was too agitated to sit down and he was on his feet, glancing from the sun – now having reached a respectable height above the horizon – to the edge of the hollow which was towards the road and the city.

The ranger met Emlyn's eyes and smiled briefly. 'I'm just going to climb up and have a look across the road. When Ensa's finished, the three of you should come up. We want to be in position, even if we don't actually… well, it never hurts to be ready.'

'Right,' said Emlyn again. There was no point in asking what his cousin was avoiding saying. The young fighter had tried to guess how long it would take Shadow to travel to and from the city, and had come to the conclusion that if the elf had been successful then he should have been back long ago.

Ensa lay flat on top of the boulder, trying not to feel vulnerable. She _knew_ that they were invisible from the road, from anywhere except the top of the hill behind them, but she felt as though they were terribly exposed.

Her neck was aching from craning round look down the road, so she stopped trying to peer towards where the caravan would appear. 'Watch the road for me, Star?' she breathed. She laid her cheek on the rough stone, looking towards the seemingly empty hillside where she knew that Tynan and Emlyn would appear, and began running over in her head the spells she had prepared, focusing on the phrases and movement that would draw the power to her and let her shape it.

'Ssh!' Ali hissed, beside her. The girl was clutching her ready-strung bow in her left hand, and with her right fingering through the arrows she had laid out in front of her, checking that they were placed for her to grasp easily even as she watched the road.

Ensa felt Ali's sudden tenseness in almost the same instant that Star squeaked a warning. A second later she heard what had disturbed them; a faint rumble of wheels coming down the road.

It seemed to take an age for the noises to creep closer. Gradually Ensa began to distinguish slow, deliberate hoofbeats among the heavy rumble, and then a shouting voice that seemed so surprisingly close that she almost jumped. Beside her, Ali shifted, and Ensa winced. 'Don't move,' she whispered. 'Nothing unless Tynan attacks first, remember?' She hadn't seen Shadow, so in all probability they were going to have to stay hidden and silent until the heavy cavalcade was past them and away into the foothills. For all she knew it might not even be the _right_ caravan – even law-abiding merchants liked to travel before the day got too hot.

Still, Tynan had said, _Prepare for the ambush_, and there was always the possibility that Shadow had managed to sneak around behind the hill and drop into Tynan and Emlyn's hiding place without Ensa seeing him. Ensa closed her eyes, making swift, precise gestures of her hands, and felt her spine prickle with the heat of magic.

She was too preoccupied to react when Ali, feeling the great stone begin to reverberate with the thunder of the passing wagons, rolled fluidly to her knees and in the same movement aimed and released an arrow that punched through the chest of the final cart's driver.

Emlyn was crouched beside Tynan, his armour dragging at his shoulders. He was more aware of the weight than he'd been for days, now that the thin layer of interlocking metal plates might be all that stood between him and an early death. He laid a hand on the hilt of his father's sword, loosening it in its sheathe, then dropped his hand away, trying to relax. _Calm down_, he told himself. _Shadow hasn't shown up. Nothing is going to happen_.

Tynan heard the caravan's approach first, peering cautiously over the top of the matural earthy ridge that they were crouched behind. 'Looks like Varturan,' he breathed. 'Ready, Emlyn?'

'Wait, Tynan, we aren't going to attack?' Emlyn was confused. 'We don't know if Shadow got the amulet.'

'He will have done,' Tynan said, firmly. Perhaps a little _too_ firmly. Emlyn frowned faintly, wondering what was going on.

Below them, the noise of the caravan was growing closer and clearer, but Emlyn could see nothing apart from the short, spiky grass and the hard earth of the ridge. Tynan had the only vantage point. 'How do we know?' he asked, puzzled by his cousin's apparent departure from logic. 'Tynan, we can't just attack and hope!'

'Shadow will be here, Emlyn,' Tynan said, earnestly.

'We don't know that!' Emlyn was beginning to get frustrated. 'We were going to hold back unless we saw him!'

'He'll be here. Trust him!'

'How can I?' Emlyn only just restrained the urge to shout. He could hear the voices of the cart drivers calling quietly to their teams as they took the sharp corner in the road. He knew that meant they must be passing Ensa and Ali's position. 'I don't know a single damn thing about him! He won't let me!'

Tynan looked at Emlyn, started to say something, and bit his lip. 'I'm sorry. You're right. You don't have any reason to trust him.' He looked away, back towards the road. 'But _I_ do.'

Entirely unable to sort out his confused emotions, Emlyn watched his cousin tense up and begin to rise to his feet – slowly, as though he were still debating with himself. Emlyn clenched his fists and wondered if he'd follow, if Tynan did race down towards the caravan. And it looked as though Tynan would…

But before the ranger's head could clear their shelter, they heard a sudden shout and the regular rhythm of the hoofbeats and cart wheels. Startled, Tynan dropped back into cover, meeting his cousin's eyes. 'What under heaven – oh no. Ali. Come on!'

The dying driver groaned as he collapsed limply backwards into the body of his cart, clutching desperately at his chest, but the guard behind him leapt to his feet. 'We're under attack!' he bellowed, setting up a clamour of indecisive exclamations among the other drivers. The guard, ignoring them, cocked a crossbow and slotted a quarrel into place, levelling it up at the boulder.

Ensa, who had risked lifting her head for a glance down at the road as soon as she had realised that Ali had shot, ducked hastily back into cover. She'd been seen – a crossbow bolt shattered against the rock somewhere just below them. Ali, her eyes dancing, took advantage of the guard's need to reload to push herself back onto one knee for another shot, but her arrow flew wide as the young acrobat threw herself down again, a bolt flying past her head from the other direction. The second guard had pulled himself together to react to their threat.

Ali turned to look at Ensa, a wild grin on her face, but the wizard was struggling to hold onto her readied spell and didn't have the concentration to speak. She had no attention spare to remonstrate with the girl; her brain was working wildly. She'd seen the caravan now – as predicted, it consisted of three carts pulled by teams of two oxen. The oxen had been essential to their original plan – they were far more placid than horses, less likely to bolt, but now it might be a disadvantage. Originally, they'd wanted the caravan stopped; now, if they could, they wanted it to keep moving, leaving them behind. Two guards! The High Priest had predicted four. Varturan certainly wasn't nervous and handicapped by the loss of her greatest asset. She had to get the caravan moving, give them time to slip away. How could she –?

A flicker of movement caught Ensa's eye, and she tilted her head to see Tynan and Emlyn charging out of cover, dashing towards the road and out of her field of vision, and she grimaced. That changed all her plans. Now they were all committed to the attack. Tynan and Emlyn would reach the road ahead of the caravan; if the oxen stampeded the two men would be trampled and lucky to survive. On the other hand, if the two guards began shooting at them as they crossed the open ground then that was a greater danger. She had to distract them, and fast.

Grunting with the effort of the magic flowing through her, Ensa hauled herself up on one knee and fired a _magic missile_ at that final cart.

She didn't have time to move as she heard the faint whistling of another crossbow bolt racing towards her.

Tynan was the faster of the two men, and Emlyn was far enough behind to watch the ranger as he slipped in between the lead oxen, drawing his shortsword in both hands. Someone – Ensa, of course – had caused a splintering explosion at the rear of the caravan, and no one was looking in their direction as Tynan slashed accurately through the traces that harnessed the oxen to the cart. Startled by the noise and the frightened lowing of oxen in pain at the rear of the cavalcade, the oxen lumbered into a slow trot and disappeared past Emlyn down the road. Now the halted front cart would impede any movement of the others.

Emlyn thought that he heard Star squealing, away up on top of the boulder, but he didn't have time worry about it. The driver of the lead wagon had felt his reins go slack and turned round, startled, shouting, and the guard who was standing on the back of the cart, shooting up at Ensa and Ali on the boulder, had spun to face the two men, his loaded crossbow twanging as he knocked the release lever.

Emlyn dived one way and Tynan the other, and the quarrel embedded itself into the packed earth of the road. Tynan was up already as Emlyn struggled to his feet, and the ranger had drawn his longsword and was parrying the attacks of the guard up on the cart, who had drawn a blade of his own and was using the height the cart gave him to press the ranger hard. Emlyn dragged his own sword out of its sheathe and moved to help.

It was then that he heard the strange growling noise from away to his right; from the middle cart, the one that no one had bothered much about because it had no guard aboard.

Emlyn turned in time to see a huge, powerful orange and black blur flow over the side of that cart and lauch itself forwards before it cannoned into his chest.

The young fighter flew backwards and thumped down a second time onto the hard surface of the road, winded and seeing stars for a second. He could feel a heavy weight pressing down on his chest until he thought his ribs must crack under the strain, and hot breath carrying the stench of rotting meat was panting into his face.

As Emlyn's vision cleared, he looked up into a snarling cat's face. The dire tiger's mouth was larger than his head, and as he looked up into it the huge animal yawned, puffing its rancid breath over Emlyn again, and displaying immense stained ivory teeth.

Emlyn shut his eyes.

Tynan didn't see his cousin go down. He had problems of his own. The second dire tiger was standing not two feet away, snarling ferociously at him.

The immense animal's head was almost on a level with his. Tynan locked eyes with it, wondering what was going on in the tiger's head. Why did it just stand there? He would have expected it to either attack him or to run away. Unless it was under orders of some kind…

Moving slowly, so as not to disturb the animal, Tynan slid both his swords back into their sheathes. There was a bitter taste in his mouth. He'd chosen wrongly, then. Shadow hadn't come through for him, and he'd staked Emlyn, Ali and Ensa's lives on it as well as his own. He'd let them all down.

'Smart move,' said a voice. It was loud and commanding, but with a hard, brassy edge to it that said to Tynan that its owner hadn't been born nobility. Tynan slowly turned his head to look in the direction that the tigers had come from.

He met the eyes of Mingun Varturan.

**AN: Sorry to cut off there, but this chapter was getting really long, so I decided to split it into two halfs. The other half of the fight is written and will be up in a couple of days, as soon as I've done the edits.**


	16. Shadow's Return

**AN: Ok, here is the other half of the battle. I have a horrible feeling I may have left a section break or two out in the middle somewhere - there's this section where the pov seems to swing a bit randomly between Emlyn and Tynan, and I know it was all right when I wrote it - but I can't put my finger on where it should be, and fanfiction is really messing me around over section breaks right now anyway, so I'm just posting it as it is. If anyone thinks they can figure out where one should be, let me know and I'll put them back in. And as always, please review. Thanks!**

* * *

_Twelfth day after Sun's Height, 30016 DC_

The halfling was as the High Priest had described him – ostentatious. He wore a scarlet doublet, embroidered and ornamented with shining metallic threads, and the silk-lined cloak that hung in dramatic folds from his shoulders was peacock blue, like the seas of the far south. What the High Priest had not told them was that the halfling adopted this flashy style to compensate for his naturally dull and uninteresting appearance. Tynan looked into mud-brown eyes and realised that nothing beyond the flashing beringed fingers and the chunky gold chain around the scrawny neck would have caused him to glance twice at Mingun Varturan if he met him in the street.

Yet that did not make him one whit less ambitious, greedy and cruel; or less dangerous. Carefully, alert with all his senses for any movement or reaction in the immense tiger, Tynan looked round, trying to make out what had become of his companions.

After a long minute of gazing at the ranger, Varturan had turned his head up towards the boulder where Ali and Ensa were hiding. 'Don't think about attacking unless you want your companions to be tiger food,' he called. 'Lay your weapons down and stand up where I can see you.'

There was a short pause, during which Tynan's keen ears caught a slight rustling and the noise of muffled conversation, and then Ali stood up. She lifted a hand, and Tynan saw that it was red and glistened in the patchy sunlight. 'I'm here,' the girl said. 'But Ensa's hit.'

* * *

Ali's clear, carrying voice reached easily to Emlyn's ears, and he opened his eyes in shock. The tiger's face was still inches from his, long strings of saliva hanging from its open jaws. Emlyn clenched his teeth, determined not to panic, and twisted his head to look across the road, managing to catch sight of Ali's figure at the edge of his vision.

His heart skipped a beat as the dire tiger growled close above his ear, but he was occupied in glaring worriedly up at the acrobat's slim, upright figure. Was Ensa really badly hurt? Ali could at least look upset, the callous brat!

'How badly?' called Tynan, before Varturan had a chance to say anything else. To Emlyn his cousin's voice sounded calm and in control, and it helped to still the young fighter's racing heart. _I'm not dead, and I could be by now. Maybe Ensa isn't that badly hurt. Maybe she's not as badly off as me, even_.

The tiger growled again and its hot, smelly breath brushed across his face, reaffirming his point. Emlyn winced, but kept his ears pricked for Ali's reply.

She never made one. Before the girl could answer Tynan, Varturan cut across her. 'Enough. Your companion doesn't matter now. You'll all be joining her soon enough.'

_Why not already?_ Emlyn thought, desperately struggling to breathe under the suffocating weight of the tiger's forepaws resting on his chest. He couldn't see the halfling from his position on the ground, but something about the brash, arrogant tone of Varturan's voice set Emlyn's teeth on edge. There was something about it that rang false, something that was all of a piece with failing to kill them.

* * *

Tynan knew the answer: vanity.

He could see it in the halfling's attitude. Varturan was a posturer; he was proud of what his ambition had achieved and pleased with himself for outwitting them – and he had outwitted them; Tynan's mind flashed to Shadow, desperately worrying about the elf's fate – and the halfling couldn't resist the temptation to show them exactly how clever he was.

_Which makes him weak_, Tynan thought. _Because while we're still alive, we're still a threat to him. If only we could do something about those tigers_…

Around Varturan's neck, among the cluttered mess of rich gold and silver jewellery, hung a leather thong. Knotted into the leather was a large fang of some description – a tiger's tooth, Tynan thought, or possibly a bear's, it was impossible to say without a closer look – and the ranger was convinced that it was the amulet that had caused them so much trouble. He could see carvings in the ivory that caught the light in strange ways as Varturan moved.

Tynan glanced worriedly up at the rock where Ali stood. If Ensa was badly hurt, perhaps dying, then if they were to do anything to escape then it must be done soon. If Shadow was – if he could posssibly be – still alive, then time might be of the essence in getting to him as well. And there was the amulet, the answer to their dilemma, not ten feet away from the ranger in clear view, and absolutely nothing that he could do about it. He looked round at the tiger standing over Emlyn's prone body with despair. If he moved then the beast would have his cousin's throat out for sure. He would probably never even get a blade drawn before the second animal was upon him.

'What made you think that you could defeat me?' sneered Varturan, and Tynan returned his attention to the flashily-dressed halfling. Varturan himself carried no obvious weapon, he noted. Three of the halfling's men – two drivers and a guard – were still standing; Ali had killed the third driver at the very beginning of the brief and abortive fight, while Ensa had caught the second guard with her _magic missile_. The final cart was now a splintered mess of wood and the injured oxen that had once drawn it were bellowing in pain, distracting Tynan and making it hard to think. Varturan didn't seem even to notice the noises.

_Of course he doesn't care about animals suffering_, Tynan thought bitterly.

'I am almost insulted,' the halfling continued. 'To think that you believed such a clumsy ambush could cause me a problem.' His hand went to his throat, and closed around the ivory amulet. Tynan tensed up; if Varturan gave the tigers orders to kill them, he planned to have a damn good shot at the halfling himself first.

'And of course that very amateur burglary attempt.' Varturan shook his head in mock sorrow. 'Really not even close to good enough.'

He must have noticed that Tynan's attention, which had been ranging over their surroundings as the ranger considered his options, focused sharply in at that, and Varturan met his angry dark eyes with amusement and satisfaction. 'Would you like to see your friend?' the halfling almost purred, and Tynan thought, _He's enjoying this. He likes it that I'm angry and helpless. If I can stay cool underneath I might still be able to do something_.

'Yes,' he said. There was no harm in that. If Shadow wasn't dead, then he would have gained some valuable information. He thought anxiously of Ensa, potentially becoming weaker every second he delayed. He was responsible for her; he was responsible for all of them. He'd led them here and he had to try and get them out again. But what could he do? He glanced again at Emlyn, hoping that it was fear or prudence that kept his cousin so very still, not injury.

'Ilom, Donar,' Varturan commanded. 'Fetch him out.'

The two men in the front cart swung themselves down, the dust rising in soft puffs where their feet hit the road, and made their way past Tynan, keeping a respectful distance from the dire tiger, which turned its massive head to watch them go past. It snarled, but Varturan made an odd growling sound and the tiger turned back to watching Tynan with narrowed yellow eyes.

The driver and the guard hauled themselves up onto the second cart, and Varturan stepped aside to let them reach the bed of the wagon. The cart held an enormous crate, which Tynan had assumed was to transport captured animals from the wilds of Wayrin or Shara into Port Suthard.

The driver unlatched the door of the crate, and the light streamed in to illuminate to rough wooden planks of the inside. There was something small – a rope, perhaps? – lying on the floor, and Tynan craned his head to see better. What had this to do with Shadow?

'He's gone!' said one of the drivers, astonished.

Varturan had half-closed his eyes, basking in what he thought was his own glory, but he jerked alert at that. 'Don't be stupid,' he snapped. 'Of course he's there!' The halfling stalked to the doorway of the crate.

There was a sudden, desperate flurry of movement, but Tynan didn't stop to analyse it. He was already leaping forwards, a sudden blind fury driving the ranger. _He put Shadow in a cage!_

* * *

Emlyn was unable to see anything of this exchange and Ensa was sprawled on the rock at Ali's feet, so the young acrobat was the only one who had a clear view of the action. She saw Varturan, stepping up to the entrance to the dark crate, suddenly knocked backwards by a slim dark figure who dropped from above the doorway. At the same moment – almost as if he had known in advance what would happen – Tynan flung himself forwards, jerking himself up onto the cart. The dire tiger in the road pounced, but the ranger wasn't there any more.

Shadow rolled free of the tangle of bodies and Ali could see him desperately fiddling with something in his hands. She squinted down at it – was it a piece of string that the elf was holding?

Then he flipped it up and over his head and jumped to his feet, opening his mouth to shout.

For a second Ali thought that something had gone wrong with her usually excellent hearing. What emerged from the elf's mouth was a succession of growls.

The tiger that had reared its forepaws up onto the cart, ready to strike again at one of the milling human figures, jumped back as if stung, and Ali understood. What Shadow had snatched was the _amulet of animal handling_. She cheered and jumped from foot to foot, excited by the sudden reversal of their fortunes.

But the other tiger? What about –? Ali glanced down at Emlyn and yelped in fear as she saw that the second tiger, released from Varturan's control, was opening its mouth.

A dazzlingly bright light exploded in the animal's face and it reared up in surprise, roaring with shock and pain. A second later Shadow had seen the danger and he was snarling and growling at the dire tiger. It left Emlyn lying where he was and ran swiftly round the abandoned front cart to join its companion in threatening what remained of Varturan's men.

Ali heard a satisfied grunt beside her and looked downwards. Ensa had heaved herself up on her elbow to watch the progress of events. The thick, sticky blood from the trivial wound in the half-orc's upper arm was already beginning to clot and dry in the patchy sunshine.

'Come on!' said Ali, grabbing her bow and swinging herself down to hang from her fingertips from the rock before she dropped into the road. 'It's all over.'

It was true. Ensa nodded with satisfaction, scooped up Star, who had remained pressed against the boulder shivering, and took the more dignified route down.

* * *

Emlyn knew that the battle was over as he picked himself up, but he had know idea how it had come about. He blinked furiously and rubbed his eyes; the blinding flash that had burst in between him and the tiger as it opened its jaws had left him completely unable to see, and he felt uncomfortably helpless and stupid. _Ensa's work_, he comforted himself. _She must be all right_.

As his vision began to clear, he looked up at the second cart and his mouth dropped open in surprise. Shadow was standing fearlessly between the two dire tigers, facing the halfling's men, who dropped their weapons with alacrity. _Shadow_? When had he arrived?

Tynan had a firm grasp on Varturan – now, his confidence deserting him, the halfling looked merely ridiculous in his finery, like a bird in borrowed plumage. Emlyn picked up his sword from where it had been flung into the dust and stalked over to his cousin's side, angry with himself. 'This happens every time! Every damn time we fight I end up flat on my back!'

Emlyn had no idea that his cousin had ever been anything other than tranquil as Tynan answered him mildly, 'We haven't fought very much, Emlyn. You'll learn with experience.'

'But not if I get myself killed!' Emlyn returned. 'I'd prefer to learn first. Tynan, will you teach me?'

His cousin looked at him and smiled, the lines of his face smoothing out. 'Yes, of course I will. Why not?'

Emlyn smiled back, but Tynan's attention was already on other things. 'Hold this,' he ordered, and thrust the limp halfling into Emlyn's mailed hands. The ranger hurried past Ali to where Ensa was picking her way down the slope. 'How badly are you hurt, Ensa? From what Ali said, I thought –'

'It's only a scratch,' Ensa said, and her low, gravelly voice was steady enough to be reassuring to Emlyn. 'I thought it might be useful to pretend I was worse hurt than I was.'

Tynan nodded. 'Fair enough. But let me see that anyway.'

Emlyn looked up at the cart, now close beside him. Ali had climbed up to join Shadow, and the girl was perched on top of the rough crate, swinging her legs and chattering cheerfully. The elf was watching the prisoners; two were sitting unhappily in the bottom of the cart, while Shadow had allowed the third to climb back onto the driving seat to control the oxen, which were shifting uneasily from foot to foot, their eyes rolling. Emlyn picked up Varturan bodily and hefted him in beside his two men. 'Watch this one too, will you?' he asked.

He didn't wait for an answer, but made his way across the road to join Ensa and his cousin.

Tynan was just tying off the bandage that he had rolled firmly around Ensa's upper arm. The half-orc was looking a little white and the corners of her mouth were tight, because the ointment Tynan had used to clean up the long gash the crossbow bolt had left across her arm stung like fire on the open wound, but she was able to smile at Emlyn.

'How are you? You look a bit battered.'

Emlyn glanced down at himself. Ensa was right; his armour was a little dented and one or two of the overlapping metal plates that made up its protective layer were missing. 'It'll be where that tiger landed on me. I'm all right.'

'You'll ache in the morning,' Tynan warned him. 'I expect you've picked up some serious bruising.'

When Emlyn thought about it, he ached already. He could still feel the ghost of pressure on his chest where half of the dire tiger's weight had rested on him, and his back and neck hurt from where he had been flung into the road. _Get used to it_, he told himself. _Who told you adventuring would be easy?_

Tynan and Ensa were still looking at him, waiting for a response, so Emlyn gave them a rueful smile. 'I'm all right.'

* * *

The cart jolted and bumped its way back along the packed dirt road towards the city. Tynan was driving; Shadow sat beside him, facing into the cart where the four prisoners sat, quailing under the hungry glare of the dire tigers. They had tumbled the crate, and a number of smaller boxes and cages, out onto the roadside to make more space, but Ensa, Emlyn and Ali had elected to walk back to the city. They – well, Ensa and Emlyn, anyway – had intended to try and clear the road of some of the wreckage and bury the two dead bodies.

Tynan hadn't tried to stop them; he approved of the plan, but he also knew that the most important thing was to hand his prisoners over to the High Priest as soon as he possibly could. He wanted them out of his hands and into the arms of the law.

It also left the two old friends free to talk quietly.

'Are you all right?' Tynan asked softly.

The elf shrugged. 'Bruises.'

'What happened?'

'Overconfidence,' Shadow said, bitterly. 'Classic. The door was open, so I walked in. They were waiting inside.' A jerk of his head told Tynan that he meant the tigers. 'They bundled me up and stuffed me in that crate. Worked myself out of the rope in the night. Then we set off down here and walk into your ambush.'

'We were lucky you were alert.'

'You were stupid.' Shadow turned his head so that his opaque green-black eyes met Tynan's brown ones. 'Why attack?'

Tynan said nothing, and Shadow laughed hollowly. 'It won't do you any good. Still not giving up on me?'

'Never,' said the ranger, fiercely.


	17. Fleet Dog

**AN: Ok, I have now completely and totally given up on trying to persuade this stupid site to give me section breaks (although I guess they mostly appeared ok in the last chapter in the end, since no one told me that they were missing). But anyway, I've now taken to indicating them with the words 'SECTION BREAK' in bold text, and I hope it isn't too jarring. I will try and sort this out for the next chapter!**

_Thirteenth day after Sun's Height, 30016 DC_

'Thank you. I knew that you were capable and discrete.' The High Priest looked Tynan in the eye, and Ensa thought suddenly how similar the two of them were. The High Priest with his shaggy grey hair was like an old wolf; and Tynan too seemed tense and watchful.

She shook her head. _Getting fanciful_, she scolded herself.

The priest looked round all of them, his stiffly embroidered clerical robes rustling in a stately manner as he moved. 'I thank all of you. Few people could have managed as you did. Port Suthard will be a better city without Varturan in it.'

To Ensa's surprise, Emlyn cleared his throat a little hesitantly, and said, 'Sir, what will happen to him? To them?'

The older man's steady amber eyes caught the young fighter's. 'For the men, a short sentence of imprisonment and a fine. For Varturan – a longer sentence. As long as we can make it; perhaps lifelong.'

Ensa frowned. 'Not execution, sir?'

'He's being sentenced under Church law, not King's,' the High Priest explained, 'and we have no power to order anything above a term in prison. And even if we could, we would not exercise it, not even in this case. All life is sacred.'

Star shifted on her shoulder, bored, and Ensa reached up to stroke her. 'Hush.' She looked back at the High Priest. 'But what about smuggling animals like that fleet dog? Isn't that illegal under King's law?'

'Not in Wayrin,' the priest told her, solemnly. 'The Imaran line has always backed Church law with the power of the Crown; even now it's the King's magistrate that will judge Varturan, although we sentence him; so here it has never been necessary to make some things illegal under King's law.'

'That sounds appalling,' said Ensa, frankly. 'I could invent a better system than that before I was ten years old. What happens when King's and Church law disagree?'

'They don't,' the High Priest told her. 'That is why it always works out.'

'But –' Ensa began, and then bit her tongue. The High Priest was not a stupid man, and if he chose not to see her point, then it was useless to argue.

'Speaking of that fleet dog,' Tynan put in, 'how is he? And the other animals from that shop?'

The High Priest smiled, and some of his lofty solemnity relaxed. 'Recovering well. Would you like to see them?'

Tynan shrugged. 'Why not? Unless anyone has an objection?' He looked around his friends. They'd dropped Varturan and their other prisoners off at the temple of Koron, the Just Lord, as they returned to the city the previous day, but they had eaten a proper meal and got a night's sleep before coming back to the temple of Arcaren to report to the High Priest – he had known already about their success by then, although he had diplomatically failed to ask them how it had been achieved. Nearly everyone was stiff and bruised, but no one was nursing any more serious injury. One by one they all nodded or shrugged, according to their own natures. Nobody minded Tynan wanting to check on the health of the animals that they had rescued.

The High Priest opened the door and ushered them out into the vaulted corridor that ran through the temple, then led them deeper inwards, into areas that they had not yet seen.

Ensa looked around her with interest as they passed through the working areas of the temple. They had long since left behind the public areas – the brightly lit entrance hall and the main chamber of the temple, with its statues and altar – and the doors leading off the corridor they followed opened behind bustling priests and healers to show glimpses of offices, storerooms and other corridors and stairways. Ensa approved of the sense of order and purpose she could feel all around her and the way acolytes and priests stepped back as they passed, bowing reverentially to the High Priest. She glanced around the dignified old building with a smile. She couldn't see how Ali could be bored enough to drop to the back of the group and follow them up the hallway in a series of slow, droopy cartwheels, ignoring the scandalised glances of the clergy they passed.

The wizard was even more surprised when they came out through a sturdy wooden door into a green and shady garden at the centre of the temple complex. She'd thought of Port Suthard as only dusty and dirty, crowded with buildings in every direction. She hadn't realised that spaces like this one could exist, locked away from the streets. A series of slender trees were planted around the garden, their delicate leaves and branches rustling slightly in the faint breeze, and Ensa could smell the large-flowered roses that grew on dark, glossy-leaved bushes scattered through the area.

A number of green-robed clergy, mostly with the white band woven into their robes that indicated a healer, were clustered around the far end of the grassy courtyard, and Ensa could see a number of cages and hutches against the wall, in the shade of the trees. Most were open and she could see that the healers were occupied with the animals who must live in the cages the rest of the time. She hurried to catch up with Tynan and the High Priest.

**SECTION BREAK**

Ensa had instantly found something to be interested in, leaning over a wire-fenced enclosure with one of the healers and asking questions about the voracious velociraptors inside, but Emlyn found himself at something of a loose end. He looked round for Tynan and found the ranger squatting on his heels and scratching the floppy ears of the little puppy, which was wriggling under his hand and beating its tail back and forth enthusiastically. Now it had been cleaned and fed, its colouring stood out sharply. Although its coat was short and sand-coloured, the puppy had plumes of long, wispy, white hair running down the back of its legs and tail. With the sun shining gleamingly through them, they gave the impression of speedy movement even when the animal was standing still, yipping excitedly at Tynan's touch. What had the ranger called it? A fleet dog?

'He remembers you,' said the High Priest.

Tynan grinned as the puppy jumped up, planting its front paws on his knees, to lick at his face. 'He looks a lot better than he did a couple of days ago.'

'Of course, we have to decide what to do with him now,' said the priest. He was looking at Tynan speculatively. 'I could give you a licence, if you wanted…?'

Tynan looked up sharply and shook his head regretfully, getting back to his feet. 'I don't have the kind of lifestyle with room for a pet,' he said. 'Too uncertain, too dangerous and too uncomfortable. We're leaving town tomorrow, and I don't even know where we'll be in ten days time.'

The High Priest raised his eyebrows. 'You're leaving? A shame. I'm sure that a group as talented and competent as yours could find employment here. All kinds of people need things done sometimes.'

'We're leaving shortly,' Tynan repeated, firmly.

Emlyn frowned and opened his mouth, but Shadow – who had ghosted up beside him as if by chance – trod warningly on his foot. The young fighter jerked his leg away, throwing an irritated glance at the elf, but kept obediently silent. Whatever Tynan was up to, inventing plans for them on the spot, Shadow clearly knew what was going on.

'In that case,' said the priest, graciously, but with a hint of regret in his tone, 'there are just one or two things more we need to discuss before I wish you well.'

'Certainly,' said Tynan, courteously.

'The first is the fate of Varturan's amulet. I suppose you realise its potential for good in the right hands…?'

Even Emlyn could hear the hint in the High Priest's mild comment. He looked at Tynan, wondering what his cousin would think of the request for the amulet that had caused them so much danger to obtain.

But Tynan laughed. 'You can have it.' He looked at Shadow, and the elf frowned at him, before reluctantly lifting the leather thong holding the wolf's fang over his head and holding it out to the priest. Emlyn could see two or three strands of the elf's long black hair caught in the knot of the lace.

Ali, who had abandoned her acrobatics to listen to the conversation, was as disapproving as Shadow, but not as restrained. 'You're not _giving_ it to him, Tynan?' the girl exclaimed.

Emlyn blinked and winced. How could she be so disrespectful to the High Priest? Let alone the fact that Tynan was undisputedly the leader and had the right to make decisions as he wished. For a moment he found himself happy about Shadow's haughty silence, and blinked again, this time in astonishment.

Neither Tynan nor the High Priest seemed at all put out by Ali's interruption. 'Why shouldn't I?' the ranger asked. 'I don't want it. I don't like compulsion enchantments.'

'You have more scruples than you have sense,' Ali declared. 'I think we should keep it.'

'Ali, shut up.'

For just a second, Emlyn thought that perhaps he himself had blurted out what was on his mind. Then he realised that it was Shadow who'd spoken. Emlyn glanced at him, surprised that their thoughts had been so much in tune. The elf ignored him, gazing at Ali with his customary lazy, superior look. There was no telling what he was thinking.

The amulet safe in his hand, the High Priest gave Tynan a slight bow. 'That is extraordinarily generous of you, and brings me to the very last thing I have to say. I know that your capture of Varturan cannot have been achieved without a great deal of difficulty and danger, ao I beg you to accept this in reinbursement.' From the wide sleeve of his ornate robe he drew a bulging moneybag and held it out to Tynan, who took it with a nod of thanks.

Again Emlyn frowned. He himself would have worried about taking the High Priest's money – as if they had only fought Varturan for the reward! And it had been an underhand and an unpleasant fight, which it would be better to forget about as soon as possible – but if Tynan thought it was all right, then he was probably right. Anyway, Emlyn comforted himself, they were leaving Port Suthard soon.

**SECTION BREAK**

The High Priest escorted them back through the temple and gave them Arcaren's blessing as they left. Ali grinned and scampered down the steps into the bustle of the mid-morning crowd, and the others followed her more sedately.

After the ceremonious and dignified atmosphere of the impressive temple buildings, the street was hot and noisy. Ensa drew her hood over her head as they walked down the street. It shielded her eyes from the glare, but it also protected her from some of the shocked and fearful glances.

Tynan led them down the main street at an easy pace, not trying to force his way through the crowd. When they had gone a decent distance from the temple steps, he stepped into a narrower side street and stopped, glancing around him. The occasional person passed them, but nothing like the crowd on the road just a few feet away.

'You heard,' he said. 'I think it's time to go. I don't want to get tied up doing errands for the High Priest. Next time we won't be so lucky. We'll split the gold, and move on. Back to the inn, collect our stuff, settle up. How does that sound?'

Ali shrugged. 'Fine by me.'

'Wait,' said Ensa. 'It's just occurred to me, Tynan, you pay for everything. Ever since I met you you've been paying for lodgings and food. You should keep my share of the gold. I owe you.'

Emlyn jumped. 'She's right! Tynan, how could you let me forget to pay you back?'

Tynan pulled a face. 'I've got the money. What else would I do with it?'

'That's not the point, Tynan! It's not right.'

Ensa nodded. 'We can't live off you. Keep our money.'

Tynan was weighing the purse in his hand speculatively. 'You mean that? You don't want the gold?'

'Yes,' said Emlyn, and the ranger nodded decisively.

'All right, then. Shadow, take this.' He handed the bag of coins to the elf. 'Ali needs a sword. Get her a decent shortsword, something reliable that she can learn to handle quite easily. She can go with you. Take Emlyn too. There must be a decent armourer in this city. Emlyn, I haven't told you yet, but I think you ought to consider switching to full plate mail. It'll offer you better protection, and I might as well train you with it as without.'

'What? Wait a second!' Emlyn was startled and off-balance. 'I mean – yes, Tynan it might be a good idea, but can we leave that for a minute? Tynan, when we said _keep the money_, we didn't mean for you to spend it on us!'

'In fact precisely the opposite,' Ensa pointed out, dryly. 'The whole point was that you have been spending too much gold on us.'

Tynan looked from one to the other of them. 'If spending money on you means you're around and able to watch my back when I need it, then it's just as good as spending the gold on me,' he said. 'Besides, I don't need it, and Emlyn and Ali do.'

There was a stubborn quality in Tynan's voice that told Emlyn that they weren't going to win this argument. Ensa obviously heard it too. The half-orc's head went up. 'Very well,' she said, in a tight, dignified voice.

'Good. Come on,' said Tynan, and led them back out into the crowd. They followed him in silence. Emlyn's blood was still boiling with the way Tynan dismissed his scruples, and he could feel that there was something unnatural about the stiff, upright way Ensa walked.

They hadn't gone far when they heard barking behind them. Emlyn was jolted out of his injured pride as he turned to watch a wave of disturbance run through the crowd, racing down the street towards them. Then the fleet dog puppy burst out of the crowd and bounced up to Tynan, plumy white tail excitedly waving as it barked, jumping up at the ranger's legs. Emlyn thought that the dog looked extraordinarily pleased with itself.

Tynan looked surprised for a moment, and then frowned, pushing the excited puppy down. 'No,' he said, sternly. 'I'm not taking you with me.'

'Oh, come on, Tynan,' said Ali. She laughed. 'How can you refuse him? He wants to go with you, look at his eyes!' It was true that the puppy, repulsed by the ranger, was sitting back on its haunches, staring up at Tynan with huge, soulful eyes.

'I said no,' Tynan said to it. 'I don't have the time or the energy. Anyway, it'd be way too dangerous to take a puppy into some of the places we've been.'

'He won't always be a puppy,' Emlyn pointed out. He looked at Ensa, for confirmation, but found that she was occupied in soothing Star, who didn't much like the look of the young dog. The rat had fled into Ensa's hood and was peering out from amongst the half-orc's stringy hair, whiskers twitching.

Tynan looked down at the puppy again, and crouched beside it, forcing passers-by to walk around the little animal. Emlyn could see that it still bore the marks of its stay in the squalid menagerie. Its ribs were pressed sharply against its skin, and he could see sores on its feet and belly.

'It's still shaky on its feet,' Ensa pointed out. Emlyn looked round at her and saw that she was looking at Tynan and the puppy even though she was forced to stand back for Star's sake. 'It must have been hard for it to run away and walk this far. Bring it along, Tynan. I think you'll have a hard time leaving it behind.'

'Whay are you all determined I should?' Tynan demanded. 'I am _not_ looking after a half-starved puppy!'

'Why not?' Shadow muttered. 'You do when they've got two legs.'

Emlyn drew himself up furiously, Shadow's comment flicking at his already wounded pride, but Tynan glared at Shadow and stood up, scooping up the puppy in his arms, and starting to march back up the street towards the temple.

'Where are you going?' Ali called after him.

Tynan glanced back over his shoulder, still frowning. 'I'm going to need that licence.'


	18. Ensa Asks Questions

**AN: My exams are finally over, so I'm back. I hope you enjoy it! And please review.**

**Gasp. Wow. I can actually have proper section breaks? Fanfiction has done some repair work while I was away. Wonders will never cease.**

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* * *

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Fifteen after Sun's Height, 30016 DC

'Ali, if you have nothing better to do than wave that sword around, you can distract the dog,' Tynan ordered mildly. He reached down, abandoning the stretch of tough canvas he was examining, and scooped up the puppy that was tugging with small but sharp teeth at his leather boot.

Ali hurriedly slid her new shortsword back into the scabbard hung at her waist and reached out willing hands to take the young animal from the ranger. 'He still needs a name.'

'We'll worry about it later,' said Tynan. 'He needs training as well, and I haven't forgotten that I promised you, Emlyn. And I'll show you some basic stuff for that blade you're holding too, Ali, otherwise there's no point to you having it… all right, Emlyn, can we turn it now?' Stretched across the table in front of the two men was the stiff, awkward-shaped canvas of a tent they'd purchased the night before. Tynan would have liked to put it up, but he'd settled for a careful inspection to make sure that there were no obvious flaws or rips in the material, since he wanted to get out of town with a good amount of travelling time to spare. It had quickly become obvious that they had far too much preparation work to do to leave on the previous day, and the ranger was determined that nothing would go wrong. 'I think it'll do. It's only in case we get another storm or the weather turns. Ours is all right. How about yours, Ensa?'

'It was entire when I last used it - that'd be maybe twenty days ago?'

'That's probably good enough, then. Are we nearly ready to go?'

The question was general, but the half-orc answered it. 'Star and I are. Ali just took the puppy outside, but I think she has all her stuff packed.'

'Good. Emlyn?'

'I'm ready.' Emlyn felt strangely enclosed inside his new suit of armour, but after the initial period of adjustment it wasn't really bothering him too much. He'd stripped off the gauntlets and tucked them through his belt to give himself his manual dexterity back, and he felt very professional as he folded up the new tent and stowed it away in his backpack, feeling the stiffness of the metal plates enclosing his joints as he moved.

'And where's Shadow?'

'Falling over the little raiki,' the elf said calmly from the doorway.

They turned to look. 'Raiki?' Ensa asked.

'It's Elvish. Fleet dog.' Shadow scooped up the puppy by the scruff of its neck and brought it back into the cool and shadowy inn room. 'Ali got distracted.'

Tynan groaned. 'What's she up to? All right, don't tell me. I'll go and get her. Everyone else get ready to go. I don't care what needs doing, it's too late now. And I _mean_ ready to go. Packs on.'

He strode towards the door. The fleet dog yipped shrilly, wriggled out of Shadow's grip and followed the ranger, jumping up excitedly at the back of his legs as he stepped out into the broad, dazzling strip of sunlight that was the propped-open door, and although Tynan gave an exasperated snort he picked up the little creature as he disappeared from view.

Ensa grinned. 'He loves it really.'

''Course he does,' Shadow drawled, raising an eyebrow. 'Where've you been?'

Emlyn frowned, but Ensa smiled and turned to pick up her pack. 'Come on. We're moving.'

* * *

Once out of the city, their progress soon spread out into a meandering line. Tynan put the puppy down to run for a bit, and Ali bounced off ahead with the fleet dog dancing around her feet. The ranger followed, keeping one eye on the girl and the little animal while talking casually to Emlyn. Ensa, strolling behind, watched the cousins. Tynan seemed to be explaining something to Emlyn; the wizard could see him gesturing with his hands to try and convey his meaning.

Emlyn looked rather imposing suddenly, she thought. Yes, he'd always been armoured, but the polished shine of his new plate armour in the sun was dazzling, and it seemed to make him a more powerful and dignified figure.

'It suits him, huh?' she said to Star.

The rat squeaked quietly and nosed affectionately at Ensa's neck from her perch tucked inside the hood that the half-orc had pulled down almost across her eyes to provide shade. Ensa laughed, dragging a handful of bread crusts out of the pocket of her robe and holding them up so that Star could reach them. 'So what do you think, Star? About this crowd. It's been… well, it's been different, right? I'm still not altogether sure what to make of them. I mean - Emlyn, he's simple enough, he's just a plain decent man, and Ali, she's not complicated either, but how am I supposed to fit them both into one picture? I still don't know why we've got Ali along. For that matter, I'm not altogether sure why _we're_ here, Star. D'you think we fit in with them somewhere?'

Ensa sighed, and Star snuffled up against her cheek comfortingly. Ensa looked down at her familiar with a grin. 'Weird thought, huh? We fit in? But I don't know why I didn't go onto Master Eladrissinel's house and try to work on that riddle, Star, I really don't…'

The rat gave a protesting squeal, and Ensa laughed. 'All right, you don't like riddles, I know. But you don't much like Tynan's little dog, either, do you?'

Star snorted, and Ensa felt the rat's tail, curled around her thick neck, tighten momentarily. She lifted a hand up to her familiar. 'Here, come down, you're making my neck hot.'

She felt Star's whiskers brush tickling across her fingers as the rat obligingly stepped onto her hand, and Ensa brought her arm down, resting it across her chest. Star ran up to the crook of her elbow and settled herself there with and air of contentment, sitting up and sniffing at the air, her nose vibrating excitedly.

'But seriously,' the wizard carried on. 'I think I have Shadow too. I'd love to know what it is that's happened to him, but it's pretty obvious that it's left him bitter and cynical, and that's a vicious circle. About the only thing I'd really like to know about his state of mind is whether it's himself or the world he hates most.' She paused, and added thoughtfully, 'Yes, and I'd like to know where Tynan fits into his story, actually. I _would_ like to know that. Because even if the others are - well, relatively simple - Tynan is someone that I can't work out at all, Star. Not at all. I think he's just a good, caring, reliable man, and then - he does something that makes no sense at all, and I realise there's something totally different going on underneath, which I'm just not seeing at all…'

She scratched Star's head absently, and asked, 'Why did he ask Ali to join us? Why was he so emphatic about not working for the High Priest of Arcaren any more? What did Shadow mean when he accused him of taking in half-starved animals? What's going on with him and Shadow anyway? Because they're not _friends_ the way I'd guess Tynan is normally friends, the way he is with Emlyn, but somewhere they're really close.' She frowned. 'And I don't think it's sexual, either. That would make it simpler, but I really don't see it, Star. And why does Tynan feel he has to _look after_ Shadow? No, wait.' She frowned. 'That's not what he said. Or it is, but he was going to correct himself until he decided not to tell me. _Why_, Star? I don't get him at all.'

Star gave an indignant quavering squeak, and Ensa smiled at her. 'I _know_ there's no point in asking you. You can't tell me even if you know. All the same, Star -' She looked up and glanced round at her four companions. '- I'm going to try and get some answers.'

* * *

'I can smell the sea,' said Emlyn, suddenly, lifting his head. There was a very slight breeze whispering in from their left, and in it he could distinctly catch the salty tang.

'That's right.' Tynan followed his cousin's gaze in that direction, looking out over the scrubby rolling grassland that surrounded the road. They had left behind the farmland around Port Suthard, and the only sign of human civilisation was the broad hard stripe of the trade road. 'We'll see it soon, I think. The road follows the shore of the Great Bay all the way round to Starold, but it wanders inland and back again. We haven't travelled along here for a few years.' He frowned. 'I remember places that I know were on the road, but I don't know exactly where. There's a village that I thought wasn't too far out of Port Suthard, but it wasn't on the sea, so maybe we won't reach it until tomorrow.'

'It doesn't matter much in this weather,' Emlyn pointed out, shrugging his shoulders under the sweaty weight of his new armour. But although the weight was greater than his old mail had been, he wasn't really hotter in the plate armour than he had been anyway. And it wasn't that hot, anyway; sunny, yes, and warm, but nothing to the humid and breathless atmosphere of the day of the storm. He was pleased with the plate mail; he felt that he was beginning to adjust to the restrictions it placed on his movement. And it made him feel taller and stronger; like a real warrior…

He laughed at himself, and Tynan glanced at him quickly and smiled in response, but didn't ask what the joke was. The ranger's long easy stride carried him along quickly, matching Emlyn's pace without effort, and Tynan was occupied with watching the road and surroundings and looking out for Ali and the puppy ahead of them all at once.

'How are your bruises doing?' the ranger asked casually, after a while.

'Fine,' Emlyn said. He thought about it, testing his muscles, and said, 'They're still there, but I'm not really noticing them any more.'

'That's good. I thought since we're not in a hurry we might not want to walk through the hottest part of the day. That's obviously not an ideal time for training, but if we can find some shade we could have a session.'

'Really?' Emlyn looked round, surprised but happy. 'That'd be great if we could, Tynan…'

'It's going to be hot,' the ranger warned him.

'I ought to learn to cope. That's the point of training…'

Tynan grinned. 'Who said it was you I was worried about? All right, Emlyn, it's a deal. If we can find a good large patch of shade when we stop for lunch then we'll do some practice.'

* * *

Ensa grimaced as she trod down on the uncomfortable hardness of a small stone in her boot. 'Ouch. Hang on a second, Star, just let me get this out.'

She sat down on the verge, a convenient height since the old road had sunk slightly with the years, and tugged off the offending boot, pulling a disgusted face as she reached into its damp sweaty interior to brush the stone away. 'I have disgusting feet. All right, I'm almost ready.' She dragged the boot back onto her foot and stood up again, resting her weight on that foot to check that the stone was really gone. 'Right, come on.'

She looked up and started. Shadow, who'd been walking at the back of the group ever since they left, had caught up with her during her stop, but she hadn't heard any sign of his presence. Now the elf was watching her impassively.

Recovering herself, Ensa smiled at him. 'You made me jump.'

Shadow raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, and Ensa smiled again, this time to herself. 'Come on. We'll get left behind.' She gestured for the elf to start walking, and fell into step beside him. Shadow gave her an unpleasant superior look, and she laughed, her harsh voice grating. 'That may work on Emlyn, but it'll take a bit more to get rid of me. Tell me, Shadow, did you say you lived in Eldavir?'

'No.'

'Blast. I wanted to know if the library there is as good as they say it is.'

For a moment she thought she was going to get nothing out of the elf, then he asked, 'Who says?'

'Hm?'

'If it was an elf, then the answer is no. Otherwise…' Shadow shrugged. 'They wouldn't let _you_ in anyway.'

'Comment on my race, my scholarly reputation - or lack of it - or on the library's custodians?'

'All three.'

'Well, that's admirably universal,' Ensa said, dryly. She reached up to scratch Star's head. Despite herself she was beginning to feel irritated by the elf's manner. _Which won't help you learn anything_, she cautioned herself. 'Have you been in?'

'No.'

'Not interested?'

Shadow glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. 'Whatever gave you the idea that they would let someone like me anywhere near their precious histories?' he drawled.

'It's all elven works in there, right? They don't have copies of any of the really old texts?'

'That's right.' Shadow's mouth twisted unpleasantly, which gave Ensa the cue for her next comment. She laughed.

'That would mean admitting that the dwarf records are older and more fundamental, huh? Study in arrogance?'

'Yes.' Shadow had got his face back under control, and his voice was as bored and level as ever.

'Maybe I'm not missing too much, then.' Ensa sighed. 'Oh, but I'd like to get access to one of the big dwarven repositories.'

Shadow ignored the chance to comment, so the wizard carried on, 'I've seen a copy of the _Book of Iluen_, the Abbot at Graveisle had one, but I'd love to read it in the dwarvish. Dwarves are sensitive about having it reproduced. They'll let someone they respect scribe it in the common speech, but no one is permitted to replicate the original dwarvish. Historically there are seven originals; they're supposed to have been secured at the heart of the Seven Golden Citadels of the dwarves. But half of those have been deserted or destroyed now. There's only three of the dwarvish _Books of Iluen_ still extant.'

'I know.'

Ensa smiled. 'Sorry. Have I been boring you? You should've said something. But isn't it fascinating? And it's not merely the _Book of Iluen_, although that has the greatest antiquity, the dwarves have kept all kinds of other early records. Are you really not interested?'

Shadow spun to face her, glaring. 'What good will it do me? Will it give me a chance to undo what is done and get things right? This is the real world, half-orc!'

Before Ensa had a chance to think of a reply, Shadow had swept on up the road after Tynan and Emlyn, leaving her behind. The wizard let him go, half-smiling to herself.

'Got him,' she muttered to Star, looking after the elf's slim dark figure from the shadowy recesses of her broad brown hood. 'Hm.'

Thoughtfully she stroked Star's head with one stubby finger.


	19. And Emlyn Gets Answers

_Fifteen after Sun's Height, 30016 DC_

'All right, that's enough,' Tynan called. 'Take a break.'

Emlyn's breath was rasping alarmingly out of his throat; his shoulders and back were drenched with sweat, and it trickled in rivulets down his face, darkening his blonde hair and sticking it to his forehead in a damp mess. He gratefully rammed his sword back into its scabbard and hunched over, leaning his hands on his knees, struggling to regain some composure.

'Walk around,' Ali advised. 'Gentle movement will help you recover. If you work really hard and then stop too suddenly it puts a lot of strain on your body.'

Emlyn glared at her. 'I'm not moving. How come you know so much about it anyway?'

'Argh!' Ali shook her head in despair as she bounced up from her resting place in the shade. 'You people keep forgetting I'm a professional athlete. I may not know a lot, but I do know about looking after my body. Come on.' She tugged at Emlyn's arm.

The young fighter resisted her. 'Tynan?'

'She's right.' Tynan grinned. 'If it's any comfort, Emlyn, it _will_ make you feel better sooner.'

'Fine,' Emlyn grumbled, allowing Ali to guide him across the patch of shade they'd been practising in and back again. 'Anyway, why aren't you this exhausted?' He hesitated and then said nervously, 'Am I really that unfit?'

'No, not at all.' Tynan laughed. 'You're just trying to do more; you're wearing full plate armour, remember! If we'd been practising in winter then it would have been much more equal. But even so, Emlyn, I'm a better swordsman than you, and I was making you do a lot more work than I did.'

'Yeah, you were.' Emlyn, beginning to feel better, remembered that Tynan had barely made an unnecessary move, while he'd been shifting and swinging all the time as he tried to get past the ranger's guard. He glanced down at Ali at his side and grinned. 'Come on, let's see you do it to Ali next.'

'Hey!' Ali elbowed his side, but Emlyn was recovered enough to push her away and stroll over to where Ensa was sitting and leaning back against the ridged bark of the mature oak that was providing their shade. Tynan's puppy was sprawled nearby, sleeping, exhausted from running about in the heat, and Star was watching the animal intently, her whiskers twitching nervously when it stirred.

'Oof! I'm glad that's over!' Emlyn sat down beside the half-orc, stripping off his gauntlets and wiping his forehead. 'We're not going anywhere for an hour or so, are we? I'm not sure that I can get up wearing all this right now.'

'Well, it's probably better to learn now,' Ensa said, sensibly. 'You'll build stamina and fitness better in these tough conditions.'

'As long as you don't overdo it in the heat,' Tynan called over warningly. 'You won't help anything if you get heatstroke. Make sure you have a drink.'

'Uh-huh.' Emlyn groaned. 'I'd love a drink, but I left my pack all the way over there.' He waved a hand vaguely at the pile of baggage lying against the tree trunk a little further round.

Ensa laughed and handed him her waterskin. 'There you go.'

'Thanks.' Emlyn shoved his hair up out of his eyes, tilted his head back and took a long drink. 'You can have some of mine later.'

'We might get a chance to fill them up anyway.' Ensa took the waterskin back and tilted it for Star to lap. 'Emlyn, is it always this hot this far south?'

'Huh?' Emlyn, who had lain down and shut his eyes, opened one again, squinting up into the glare of dappled sunlight coming through the leaves above him. 'Only in summer. And not always even then.'

'I had to pick a hot year, then.' Ensa sighed. 'I'm not too good in the heat.'

'Why do you always wear that huge old wool robe, then?' Emlyn asked. 'You'd be cooller if you cut down.'

'Yes, but if you'd ever seen a half-orc with sunburn you'd know that I absolutely have to cover up,' Ensa told him. 'Orcish skin is adapted for darkness. So is dwarvish, actually, although I don't think that they have such big problems.'

'Really?'

'Yes. Same reason I can see in the dark but I have dreadful problems with glare in my eyes in this blazing sunshine. Because both orcs and dwarves originated under the Shroud of Night before Tiniel came to Iluen.' She shrugged. 'I don't _like_ being half-orc, but you've got to admit it's interesting.'

'I didn't realise orcs were so old.'

'They didn't keep written records like the dwarves did, so it's hard to tell when they originated, but there're mentions in dwarf chronicles of them being observed way back.' Ensa wriggled her shoulders a little, trying to find a more comfortable position against the uneven surface of the tree behind her, and added, 'It's said that the Black Lord created them before his siblings saw his evil heart, but the race he made were so ugly that none of the Eleven would help the Nameless One finish them except Amarill, who took pity on the poor misshapen creatures and against her better judgement gave them life. So orcs aren't children of Arcaren; but they're not all evil, because even inside the most vicious, bloodthirsty individual is a fragment of the breath of Amarill.'

Ali, who had wandered over to listen, snorted. 'Yes, but it's not true, is it? It's just a story.'

Ensa asked peaceably, 'Why shouldn't it be true?'

'Because the gods aren't really real, are they?' Ali said, dismissively. 'They're tales for children too.'

'Ali, don't be stupid!' Emlyn demanded angrily, forgetting the awkward drag of his armour as he sat bolt upright, frowning. 'I've met a true cleric; they exist, they have existed throughout history. Where do you think they get their power from?'

'It's just magic,' Ali argued. 'I've seen Ensa there cast spells, but she doesn't think she's blessed by a god. Anyway, how many good orcs have _you_ ever met?'

'I've known a few,' Tynan intervened, calmly. 'I don't think you're going to convince any of us that the gods don't exist, Ali.'

'Oh come on!' The girl rolled her eyes. 'When was the last time you had a prayer answered?'

Emlyn rolled over onto his front and propped himself up on his elbows. The ground in front of him was sparsely covered with grass, but the soil was dry and gritty. He rolled a little piece between his fingers until it disintegrated. He _had_ thought like that sometimes, but in the end… well, you didn't really expect for a god to notice you personally, did you? But if they didn't, then who did they notice?

'Think of this, Ali,' Ensa said. 'In all the countries, all the lands on Iluen, if the gods were made up you'd expect people to have made up different gods, yes? But everywhere on Iluen, even reports that we've had from the few people who've managed to make it to lands far beyond the sea and come home to tell the story, they have the same gods. They use different titles for them - I read a copy of one ship's log where they recorded meeting a tribe who worshipped a deity they called the Worldmother; but when the ship's captain asked them what was the real name of this goddess, they said 'Amarill'. Doesn't that seem unlikely? Unless the gods really are real, which would explain how their names and identities can be found in such disparate cultures and places.'

'Huh.' Ali looked unconvinced, and Tynan broke up the discussion.

'Come on, Ali, Emlyn's right. It's your turn to learn something about how to use that sword.'

'Great!' Ali spun around, turning her back on Ensa and followed the ranger out into the centre of the circular patch of shade.

'Hey!' Emlyn called after her, frowning at her rudeness, but Ensa shook her head.

'Leave it. I don't think she likes being wrong.'

'Everyone's wrong sometimes. She doesn't have to behave like that!'

Star squealed in agreement, and Ensa stroked the rat soothingly with one finger as she said, 'Of course not, but it's not worth arguing over. It'd upset Tynan, for one.'

'Tynan likes people to get along, but he'd understand why I need to make Ali see how badly she's behaving,' Emlyn said, defensively. 'He wouldn't not do what's right for the sake of peace and quiet.'

Ensa looked at him for a minute with her pale eyes, glanced across at where Tynan was correcting Ali's stance, and then said, 'Emlyn, how long have you known Tynan?'

'Nearly all my life!' Emlyn dragged himself up again from his prone position, hovering between incredulity and anger. 'What's this about, Ensa? Don't you like Tynan?'

'I think he's a really caring person,' Ensa said, carefully. 'But there's something about him that I can't make out. I can't think what we're all doing here, for instance.'

'He's a really good man!' Emlyn insisted. 'He's always done right by me.'

'Oh, me too. It's just…' Ensa trailed off, looked at Emlyn and changed what she was going to say. 'It's just… not knowing things makes me uncomfortable.' She grinned. 'I get really itchy and I just have to ask… wonder where I get that from?' She looked thoughtful.

Emlyn was sidetracked. 'Ensa, you're actually really interested in orcs and your heritage, aren't you?'

Ensa blinked. Her craggy face never betrayed much emotion, but Star wriggled and squealed uncomfortably and Emlyn guessed that she was picking that up from her mistress. He blushed. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean… that was tactless.'

Ensa managed a weak smile, 'No, it's all right. I once did a bunch of research into orc history. I mean, I hate being an orc - I'm _not_ an orc - I've never had anything but misery from it. I just wondered if there was anything else there, anything I could maybe be just a little bit proud of.'

'And?'

'No.' She shrugged. 'Nothing. Seems like all the orcs in history were just like the ones I knew. I mean, there are a few orcs who aren't evil, but they never seem to do anything much, just try to live in peace. I guess that's not such a bad aim.'

'Sounds a little boring, though.' Emlyn settled back down. That would have been the life he'd have been stuck with, if - well, if life had gone well for him. Farming, in peace and quiet. But he'd never been much good at it. And now - he glanced across at where Tynan was now teaching Ali a series of basic strokes and smiled - now he was learning to wield a blade; to fight alongside his friends…

A thought struck him. 'Where's Shadow?'

Ensa nodded her head backwards at the tree. 'Behind. I think I upset him earlier.'

Emlyn's mouth dropped open. 'You _upset_ Shadow? He can get upset?'

Ensa gave a little snorting laugh. 'Emlyn! You talk about him like he's not human!'

'He's not.'

'Emlyn! That's not what I meant, and you know it.'

'All right.' Emlyn sighed. 'But it does seem like he doesn't have any feelings. He just seems to stand there with that blank look on his face and that kind of tone in his voice that means he's laughing at me and despising me.' He looked back over at Tynan and Ali as the ranger knocked the girl's sword aside with his own blade and followed up with a thrust that he pulled up just short of touching the young acrobat. Then he lowered his blade and began showing Ali how she could have countered the stroke.

Ensa, tactfully changing the subject, followed his gaze and said, 'She's not nearly as good as you, you know.'

'Huh?' Emlyn, in the part of his mind where he'd been paying attention to the combatants, had thought that Ali was doing fairly well, considering it was her first attempt. Tynan was vastly the better swordsman, of course, but the girl's agility and balance were allowing her to manage the short blade with a reasonable level of dexterity.

'Really. I'm not an expert, of course, but you looked a lot better.'

Emlyn laughed dismissively. 'I know barely anything yet.'

'I know.' Ensa laughed too. 'Maybe you're a natural.'

* * *

_The boy, who was now lying on his stomach on the hearthrug, laughed. One of the men, huddled close by to catch the heat of the fire, nudged him with his foot, 'Quiet, lad, we're listening,' but the bard had already stopped. He looked down at the boy._

'_What's so funny, youngster?'_

_The boy rolled his eyes and sat up, crossing his legs, so that the warm air from the flames beat against his back. He said, 'Of _course_ Emlyn's a natural with a sword. He's the hero!'_

_The bard's eyes creased up with amusement. 'Maybe you're right. Wouldn't it be much of a story if the hero couldn't fight?'_

'_Of course not!' The boy was dismissive. He glanced around the quiet, shadowy inn, realised that everyone in the room was listening to him and sat up a little straighter as he explained authoritatively, 'If you don't have battles and monsters and things it's no good as a quest.'_

'_But Emlyn hasn't got a quest,' the bard pointed out. He spoke seriously, but a little quirk at the corner of his mouth suggested laughter._

'_Yes, but he will have when he's finished his training,' the boy said positively. 'All heroes have quests. Those are the best kind of stories.'_

'_But would it be the best kind of story if you already know what's going to happen?' the bard asked. 'If it's just like the ones you've heard before?'_

_The boy looked at him suspiciously as a gust of icy wind down the chimney puffed smoke across the room. The child coughed, wrinkled his nose and said, 'Do you mean that interesting heroic stuff doesn't happen in this story?'_

_Old Tobin, who had been listening to the bard with as much attention as anyone else, suddenly laughed. His face, which had been creased and thoughtful as though he was groping after things he'd half forgotten, cleared. 'I think that some quite small things are going to happen, lad.' He ruffled the boy's hair. 'Things as small as Emlyn bickering with Ali or Tynan looking after a disobedient puppy; or you fighting with your sisters or your mother cooking your dinner.' The little old man looked up at the bard, his white beard jutting out, and said deliberately, 'Or an entertainment on a winter night.'_

_The bard smiled at him, his eyes dancing, and said, 'You could well be right. You could well be right.'_

_The boy scuffed his shoe across a huge, worn flagstone and said, 'But I wanted a _heroic_ story. I was sure Emlyn would turn out to be a great knight.'_

_The bard grinned. 'Maybe he will.'_

'_Will he?' the child demanded._

'_I can't tell you that.' The bard wagged a half-mocking reproving finger, the huge roll of his belly wobbling as he moved. 'You have to listen to the story to find that out.'_

'_But nothing is happening in the story,' the boy complained. 'They're just lazing around in the summer sun.' He glanced up reflexively at one of the tightly shuttered windows and shuddered._

'_Oh?' The bard raised his eyebrows. 'You want a winter story now? I could tell you one, if you liked. I could tell you a story called Winter In The Wolf Country.'_

'_Does it have to do with Emlyn and the others?' the boy asked. 'I hate leaving a story half-finished.'_

_The bard smiled again, the firelight glinting in his eyes and giving him an impish expression. 'Maybe it does, and maybe it never will.'_

_The boy frowned. 'I don't understand. You're not making sense!'_

'_Does a story have to make sense? What matters is what you get from it.'_

'_Stop!' The boy put his hands over his ears. 'You're confusing me! Just tell the story.'_


	20. Winter In The Wolf Country

_Twenty-one before New Dawning, 29964 DC_

The snow had stopped. Kaden peered up at the flawless blue-white sky and licked his dry lips. Almost without thinking about it he was systematically rubbing his hands, numb even inside his thick fur-lined gloves, up and down the length of his powerful yew bow. If he let it freeze then the wood would go brittle, and crack when he drew it; the bow itself might kill him as it exploded into pieces under the strain, let alone the consequences it would have.

He looked around again. In the cold, clear evening he was perched on the roof of the village's little stone-built shrine, along with a group of the other villagers. Kaden shivered and hunched down further inside his furs. He'd told them that he was old enough; pleaded to be included and not consigned to wait with the people huddled fearfully inside the shrine with the door barred. And despite his age, Kaden was the best shot in the village, so he'd been allowed. Another, smaller contingent was waiting inside, ready to defend the children and elderly with their lives.

Kaden hopped from foot to foot, drawing assorted compassionate and irritated looks from his companions. 'Steady, lad,' Ola advised, not taking her grey eyes from the forest edge. 'They'll be here soon enough. Listen!' Everyone heard clearly the high cold note of a wolf's howl.

'It's them,' muttered Bern.

'A long way off yet,' Ola said, raising her voice slightly so that everyone heard her. 'Time for us to prepare.'

'We're as prepared as we're going to be, Ola,' Ulin said, the young woman's voice wavering nervously as she clutched at her bow.

Skula Greybeard nodded, his eyes and hands steady despite his age. 'This weather's the worst luck that we could have.'

'It would have happened eventually,' Bern said, pessimistically. 'If it snowed every day between now and spring, then the spring wouldn't come and we'd all be buried twenty feet under in ice.'

'But all the snow on the ground…' Kaden said. 'Won't that get in their way?'

'It will, but not as much as it does us,' Ola told him. She scanned the distance again. 'And they're desperate. They're starving. A bit of snow isn't going to stop them. They'd have come eventually even through a storm. At least this way we know to expect them - and we've good light for shooting.'

Some of the archers nodded, but Bern said glumly, 'We have now, but they won't come until it's getting dark. They're damn cunning beasts.'

'Arcaren protect us all,' Hamen the wheelwright said, grimly.

'He will, when we protect ourselves,' came Data's gruff voice. Kaden looked up at the huge orc in his armour and felt comforted. Data's bow was an exceptionally fierce looking hide-backed laminated weapon; he'd once let Kaden shoot it, and the boy knew that it packed a fearful punch. Data was someone that he was glad to have on his side.

To his surprise, the orc looked down at him and winked. 'Besides, we_ can_ defend ourselves. I've seen Kaden here split a wand at a hundred paces, even in the dusk. Isn't that right, youngster?'

'It was a hundred and twenty paces!' Kaden said, affronted, forgetting his surprise.

Ola nodded agreement. 'It was. I should know, I counted it.'

'Are you promising me a wolf at a hundred and twenty paces today?' Data asked, baring his fangs in a savage smile.

Kaden gulped at him. 'I…uh…'

The orc shook his huge, ugly head. 'Lighten up, youngling, I'm teasing you.'

'Oh. Right.' Kaden had never heard Data make a joke before. He respected the orc, everyone did - no one had Data's strength or endurance, and no one was more willing to lend a helping hand - but the orc had always been surly and taciturn, ever since the day he first arrived and set about working to get himself accepted in the lonely human village. But now the orc looked relaxed - and even happy.

_He's actually enjoying this_, Kaden thought, shaking his head. _Amazing. I'm really glad he's with me! And Ola, too_. He glanced across at where the ranger was coolly surveying the landscape around them. He could hear the echoing howling again - from more than one animal, he thought, listening carefully. It sounded closer now.

The light was gradually leaching out of the world, leaving the wooden houses of the village as dark shapeless humps against the white snow, and the jagged black outline of the Great Forest beyond. The temperature was dropping even further; Kaden dragged a fold of cloth across his mouth, ears and nose so that only his upper face was exposed to the biting air. Even that was too much; he wished that he was at home in bed. Even that would be bitterly cold; but at least he would have his blankets and furs to add to what he was already wearing. And no one was at home tonight; his only choice would be to wait below, defenceless, and in the gathering dark…

'String bows and check blades and arrows,' Ola ordered quietly. Every villager had a bow; those were cheap and easy for the foresting community to manufacture; but Ola had spent a great deal of effort on gathering together at least a small blade for everyone who would be fighting.

Kaden clumsily drew the long dagger in his belt and re-sheathed it. He wasn't sure what use he would be with it; he hoped that he wouldn't have to find out. All the swords that Ola had managed to find were in the hands of the defenders below, waiting inside the chapel in case the wolves broke through the barricaded doors. The ranger had sternly warned the archers that the short blades they were carrying didn't have enough reach to be much use against a wolf. They were to stay up on the shrine roof, safely out of harm's way.

He steeled himself for a minute and then quickly stripped off his thick gloves and tucked the end of his bow into his instep to bend the stiff wooden length and slip the top loop of the string into place. It bent smoothly and he didn't hear a crack; good, he'd managed to keep it warm and supple. His arrows were hanging in a quiver at his belt; he drew out a few to check that they slid loose easily enough, then pushed them back again. His heart was racing faster as he stuck his fingers into his mouth and puffed hot air over them, wincing as they painfully thawed a little, then stuffed them back inside his gloves. He could shoot fine with them on; certainly better than he would with frostbite in his fingers.

He jogged from foot to foot again as he stared out towards the forest, swallowing nervously over a rolling belly. Ola thought they'd be coming soon…

Earlier in the evening the sun had been shining from behind the archers straight into the forest, but now that it had set the edge of the trees was almost impenetrably black. Kaden couldn't tell if there were shadows moving in that darkness or not.

'There they are!' Ulin had better eyes, but the young woman sounded almost hysterical. A moment later, Kaden too saw a dark shape, belly close to the snow, emerge from the forest and slink across the clear white ground, and then others behind it. He swallowed and clenched his hands.

'I see them. Steady.' Ola eyed the approaching animals calmly. 'Arrows to the string, but hold your shot until they get close enough. Kaden, hit that big one at the front for me.'

Kaden gulped, his eyes widening. 'Now?'

'If you can.'

Kaden bit his tongue. Then, moving cautiously because he felt suddenly clumsy, he laid an arrow against the string and lifted the bow. He'd made the arrows in the autumn and he'd carefully tagged them with his mark, a flash of white feather in the grey goose fletches, so that he could tell them apart from anyone else's in the village. But it was a waste to shoot arrows like that, good arrows he'd crafted so carefully, at the wolves. It wasn't like hunting; he'd likely break all the arrows that he shot today.

Ola and the others were waiting for him. Kaden licked dry lips and swallowed a mouthful of icy air, his breath steaming. Then he took a careful stance, and in one swift movement lifted his bow, drew back, aimed and released the arrow.

He knew it was a good shot by the feel of it, and the travelling time of the arrow was enough for him to watch it flying; Kaden wasn't surprised to see the dark line of his arrow fall across bright snow into the dark shape that was the leading wolf.

'Shot,' growled Data admiringly, but Kaden was disappointed.

'It didn't even slow down!'

'It wouldn't at that range,' Ola said. She sighed. 'That's the one that's going to cause us trouble. It's a dire wolf.'

Kaden swallowed. 'A dire… but aren't they legendary?'

Ola shook her head, measuring with her eyes the distance between them and the approaching pack. Nine wolves in total were converging on the village in a loose arc. 'In the centre of the Great Forest you can find all sorts of dire animals. That's why there's no road through to Eldavir… but you can occasionally get them out here, too. Usually on their own.' She frowned. 'This one leading a pack of ordinary wolves is a threat I haven't seen before. I think they're close enough.' She raised her voice and said to everyone. 'Ready, and shoot at will!'

Data's first arrow tore through the air beside Kaden before Ola had even finished speaking, making the boy jump, followed in a ragged volley by those of the other archers. Ola herself hit, he saw, and Data's arrow lodged solidly in the shoulder of one of the smaller animals behind the dire wolf, but the others scored only glancing hits, and a number flew entirely wide. Hastily Kaden dropped to one knee to be out of the other archers' shots - Data's had been too close for comfort - fumbled another arrow onto his string and sighted again on the big leader.

He got off another couple of shots, but for all the effect they had on the dire wolf he might as well not have bothered. As the pack got closer the perspective meant that they appeared to travel faster, closing the distance in what seemed like no time at all; Kaden could see now that the dire wolf was half again the size of the others, and huge thick ridges of bone rising through its coat at the shoulder blades made it look unnatural and threatening. Kaden could see the steam of the animal's breath in the air as it raced up the street towards him; and he could hear its softly thumping footsteps in the snow and the rasp of its panting. The dire wolf's eyes were gleaming redly, and as it looked up at Kaden he could see one of his arrows hanging loosely from its thick black coat. The wolf's tongue lolled out of the side of its mouth so that it appeared to leer up at the boy; as if daring him to try and hurt it.

Feeling strangely detached under the gaze of the dire wolf thundering towards him, Kaden laid another arrow on the string, drew up and loosed it straight away; he didn't even pause to aim. In the same daze he saw the fletches, starlike, spiralling away from him; and then the sudden explosion of redness spraying across the snow as the shaft slid up the dire wolf's muzzle, laying the beast's face open.

And then sound flooded back into the world; the dire wolf roared, and the raging sound seemed to shake the world. The couple of triumphant cries from the archers were swallowed in the thunderous noise, and the huge beast recovered its momentum and threw itself forwards again towards the shrine, leaping hugely into the air to hurl its weight towards Kaden.

_It knows it was me that hurt it_, thought the terrified boy, clutching his bow as he knelt on the edge of the roof. Around him the other archers were hustling backwards away from the wolf, shouting with fear, but Kaden couldn't seem to move. _We were supposed to be safe up on the roof_, he thought, rigidly. _But it's going to make it! It's going to make it it's going to make it_…

The dire wolf's flying weight struck the building below the level of the roof, hard enough to make the stone walls flex a little, and shaking loose the snow piled on the almost-flat roof. The heaped ice crystals poured onto the ground, and Kaden found the roof around him sliding away suddenly. He shouted and tried to twist round, to fling himself back up onto the part of the roof that the archers had cleared of snow; but the movement only made him skid faster across the suddenly treacherous and slippery surface. Then, with a heart-jolting jerk, his scrabbling feet plunged into space, and Kaden was falling.

He landed on his back with a sickening thud that knocked the breath out of his body, hearing a loud crack somewhere. He tried to breathe and found his lungs compressed as if a steel band was tightening around his chest; he had to strain to force air in and out of his body. _The wolves!_ his mind screamed at him. _The wolves, where are the wolves?_ He'd fallen into the snowdrift piled around the shrine's walls - it had probably saved his life - and he'd sunk into it so that he could see nothing but the grey shadows of the snow walls around him and the deep blue sky above. The snow touching his face and seeping into his clothing was piercingly cold. _I'm going to die! Where are the wolves?_

It didn't matter where the wolves were. Kaden couldn't move anyway. There wasn't enough strength in him; there wasn't enough air… His head swam.

_No!_ he told himself, furiously blinking his eyes clear and dragging in deep breaths of the painfully icy air. The fur-lined hood of his coat had fallen back during the fall, and was packed with snow. But being cold would be the last of his problems soon. Forcing his limp body to respond, Kaden lifted himself up on one elbow.

The wolves were surrounding him in a ragged semi-circle, glittering yellow eyes fixed on him. There were only seven; some must have been shot; and even as Kaden watched an arrow flew down from above and buried itself in the haunches of one of the animals, which yelped and backed down, twisting its head to try and reach the injury and whining pitifully, but the other wolves didn't even react; they carried on slinking towards the boy. He could see their ribs through their fur and the ragged look of their thick coats. The wolf pack was close to starvation, and the threat of the archers above wasn't enough to keep them away from their intended prey.

The dire wolf was in the centre of the line of animals, its muzzle gory with its own blood. It drew back its lips in a ferocious snarl as Kaden looked at it, and crouched ready to spring.

Kaden heard a fierce yell, and a bulky black shape dropped across his vision. As the dire wolf leapt towards the boy, Data fell between them, landing heavily but on his feet, and shoved his shield into the dire wolf's face as it leapt, blocking it. The orc grunted as the animal's weight forced him backwards a few steps towards Kaden, and the wolf growled angrily as its head slammed painfully into the solid metal. It retreated a step and stopped, watching the orc with narrowed eyes as he half-turned, not letting the huge animal out of his sight, and dragged Kaden to his feet.

The ordinary wolves had fled a little way back down the village street when Data came hurtling down among them, but as they saw their leader hold his ground they turned and came creeping back, bellies close to the ground. This time a number of arrows came raining down on them. _Ola must have got them organised up there_, Kaden thought, shakily, letting Data support him as his breathing began to ease. He saw one wolf collapse as a well-aimed shaft seemed to sprout out of its chest, crimson staining the snow and the animal's fur.

A thought struck him, and he shook off Data's supporting hand, twisting to look around the area where he'd fallen. Where was his longbow? His quiver was still strapped to his waist; he'd lost a lot of arrows in his fall, but there were some left…

Behind him Data grunted a warning and leapt forwards towards the wolves, slashing his sword across the face of one that came too close, but Kaden trusted the orc to keep him covered. He'd spotted the end of his bow, and dragged it hastily out of the snow drift. If only he could get a couple of shots at the wolves before they got bold enough to attack; Data couldn't possibly hold them all…

His bow was in two pieces. Kaden gaped at it, horrified, remembering the crack he'd heard as he landed on the ground. His full weight must have come down on his sturdy bow…

Data; his bow, where was it? Kaden spun around to see the orc standing in between three wolves, blocking and dodging their fangs and claws. A fourth wolf was lying in a pool of crimson snow nearby, head almost severed from its body by the orc's blade. The archers had stopped shooting; the risk of hitting Data was too great.

But where was the dire wolf? It was unmistakable by its size and those hideous bony protuberances on its back; and it wasn't there. Kaden looked around desperately, and found himself face to face with the huge animal; it alone had ignored Data and come back for the easier prey.

There was a moment where the world seemed to slow; the wolf's muscles bunched up, and Kaden thought grimly, _I knew I was doomed from the moment I fell. I hope Data gets away_…

Then the dire wolf leapt and Kaden dropped to his knees, dragging out with numb fingers the long knife Ola had given him, and bracing himself. He'd managed to dodge the wolf's jaws, but its forepaw raked across his shoulder, tearing a set of gouges that burned like fire and throwing him backwards into the snow. The dagger must have hit something, though; it was torn from his grasp as the force of the dire wolf's leap carried it over Kaden's prone form. As it turned Kaden could hear the new laboured note in its breathing; Ola's knife had left a deep scoring cut in the flesh of its chest, and blood was soaking out into its fur.

_Won't stop it eating me, though_, Kaden thought, shutting his eyes in despair. The pain of his shoulder seemed to be radiating sickeningly through his whole body.

He could hear shouting. Kaden opened his eyes, puzzled, and the wolf also swung its head around, snarling. There was something; something bright… Kaden could see the flickering orange blaze of flames in the night air, and hear running feet and the ring of metal. He cudgelled his brain into working. The men waiting below in the shrine; they must have heard the commotion, Data's shout, perhaps, and they'd come out to join the fight. And they'd win! With the wolf pack so weakened, they'd win!

The dire wolf knew it too. It howled one last time, furiously, desperately, and then it leapt away, loping off down the street into the gathering darkness. The ordinary animals, Data's foes, had already fled. A couple of arrows followed the huge beast, but they were nowhere close to hitting it.

Hands were reaching out to him, lifting him. Kaden blinked. He seemed to be looking at the sky, and it was cold around him. He felt drained and almost peaceful; only that terrible burning ache was still there in his shoulder, as if that was the only part of him that really existed.

'The wolf,' Kaden said vaguely, to the crowd of dim figures huddling around him. He could feel the hard pressure of their hands, and the sky jerking and twisting above him as they lifted him. Someone put a hand on his wounded shoulder and sent a vicious stringing throb racing through him. Kaden made a thin little noise of pain, and they let go quickly, but the hurt didn't subside.

'Wolf's gone,' growled a gruff voice near his ear. Kaden recognised it; it was… Data, that was who it was. 'Be easy, lad,' the orc continued. 'Wolf's gone. That was a damn brave fight.'

'No,' Kaden said, and struggled to get up. 'The wolf… it's not…'

'Lie still.' A hand pushed him back down, and Kaden realised vaguely that above him was no longer sky; it was the stonework roof of the shrine. He supposed he'd been carried in here; he even remembered it vaguely, if he strained. 'Go to sleep.'

'But…' Kaden struggled to explain.

'_No_, Kaden. Go to sleep.'

Would it count as sleep if he let the grey blurring at the edge of his eyes slide across the whole world? Kaden wondered. But it was obvious he wasn't going to have a chance to explain what he knew; that even as the dire wolf fled it had caught Kaden's eyes with its own redly gleaming ones; that the wolf wasn't dead, and it would be back; that it and Kaden would fight until one of them was dead.

_And even if I kill it_, Kaden thought, _that's not the end. There will be other wolves. Because I am a ranger of the Wolf Country, and my enemy is the winter itself. And someday, somehow, it will kill me._


	21. Folly

**AN: Ok, I have to apologise here; this chapter is very short and not hugely interesting. I made a misjudgement when planning out these few chapters, and so now I have to catch up to the right place, and this chapter is just to do that.**

_Nineteen after Sun's Height, 30016 DC_

The fleet dog puppy wriggled and squirmed in Tynan's arms and the ranger kept a tight hold on the little animal as he stood up on the verge with his friends to let the flock of sheep pass. The shepherd's two dogs were running backwards and forwards, effortlessly following their master's whistled commands and keeping the animals in a tight bunch as they herded them down the road, and the puppy was almost as eager to go and meet the two long-haired black and white collies as he was to investigate these strange woolly animals.

_I've got to work on training him_, Tynan thought, for at least the fifth time in as many days. There was just so much to do, that was the trouble. If he was teaching Emlyn and Ali sword work every day then the only time he could even think about beginning to teach the puppy simple commands was in his own rest time; and that time was valuable to him. Tynan knew better than to exhaust himself and become a drag on the whole party. He bit his lip. _But he's _got_ to be trained. I said I wouldn't take a pet into my dangerous life and circumstances conspired against me, but how much greater are the risks if that pet doesn't even obey me - doesn't even know what I mean when I give him an order?_ He looked down at the sandy-coloured puppy whose white plumy tail was wagging enthusiastically, and the little fleet dog chose that moment to look up at the ranger and bark happily, licking his face.

Tynan laughed and stroked the dog, but there was an undercurrent of worry in his tone.

The last of the sheep passed them, herded from behind by the shepherd, a bulky auburn-haired man whose skin had turned a flaming red even through his tan. Tynan nodded a greeting, and the man raised a solemn hand in thanks as they stepped onto the road again behind the flock and carried on strolling northwards. That was another problem; it was far too hot. Another storm had been followed by a couple of cooler days, but now the temperature was rising again, and Tynan could feel the heat beating up at him from the surface of the packed dirt road. Emlyn was coping surprisingly well, given his stifling armour - Tynan hadn't realised quite how tough his big young cousin was - and Ensa seemed to be fine, if uncomfortable. Ali, though, would bear watching. He thought that she was wilting a little in the heat. As the temperature rose again the young acrobat was getting quieter, and she'd dropped back from her energetic position at the front of the group to tail behind somewhere with Shadow.

Tynan frowned, automatically scanning the landscape around him, his thoughts elsewhere. _Maybe I should cut back on Ali's training sessions. Give her more time to rest, and I could use the time to train this scamp_. He scratched behind the puppy's ears and felt the little animal's tail wag against his chest. _But is that fair on Ali? I asked her along with us, and if we get into danger and she's not prepared, then anything could happen to her. On the other hand, she knows how to shoot already; she could probably give me some pointers! She'll be fine if she stays back in a fight; in fact she'll be a big help. But what if that isn't always possible? And besides, I don't know if Ali's got the discipline to hang back if everyone else is piling into combat. Maybe Ensa could help keep her out of trouble? No, she never listens to anything Ensa says. So she really does need to learn to fight. But I really need the time!_

He sighed and pulled gently at the little fleet dog's floppy ears. 'You're trouble, you are,' he told the puppy.

At least the little animal had a name now, of a sort. Tynan hadn't seen it coming, but Shadow's habit of referring to the puppy in his own language and Tynan's failure to give him any other name had accustomed the fleet dog to being spoken of as 'Raiki' - and both Ensa and Ali had picked up the habit of using the name. Now the puppy perked up his ears in reaction to the word, so Tynan had laughed and gone along with it. It wasn't as if he'd wanted to choose any other name, after all.

The ranger shrugged his shoulders under the sweaty weight of his pack, and peered ahead. Encountering the shepherd and his flock made him think that perhaps there was a village up ahead, maybe within today's march. Actually he would genuinely prefer to sleep out in the open; but if they found an inn then they'd be able to get a bath, and that would feel good right now. Besides, he wasn't foolish enough to think that the others would agree with him about the relative merits of camping out or sleeping in a bed. Tynan knew that even Shadow, though he never complained, preferred to be indoors.

_Maybe Shadow could help me teach Ali?_ he thought, returning to his main preoccupation. _That'd free up some time for me, and it might help her too; she's much faster than either of us, and Shadow might be able to teach her some smart ways to use that agility. That wouldn't tire her so much. Yes, that's a good thought. I _will_ ask Shadow about that_.

Resolve made, Tynan hefted the puppy higher in his arms and carried on up the road. There was no hurry, after all.

* * *

'What's that?' Ali asked curiously.

'What?' Emlyn said, lazily. They were taking a short break that had turned itself into a long break as no one could summon up the energy to move any further. The road had dived into a little wood, disappearing between deep sunken banks with huge twisted beech trees lining each side, and they had climbed up the bank on the edge of the trees, clinging onto the smooth grey roots. They had all wanted the break; but after about half an hour Ali, refreshed enough, was back on her feet and beginning to peer around looking for something to do.

'That thing.' Ali pointed upwards at the skyline of the wood.

Tynan had moved away and was beginning to teach little Raiki to sit on command, but the others looked around. Ali had spotted a break in the trees, and just visible in the gap was a glimpse of stonework.

'I don't know. Does someone live out here?'

'It looks ruined,' the girl pointed out.

Emlyn squinted up at the bright sky. Maybe she was right; he couldn't see thatch or roof tiles. 'So someone used to live here.'

'I'm going to go and find out,' Ali decided. 'Anyone coming?'

'Urggh,' Emlyn groaned. 'Do you have to?' Tynan had put him through another training session shortly after they stopped, and he was happy to stay relaxed in the shade.

'You don't have to come,' Ali retorted.

'I'll come,' Ensa said. 'I'd like to know what that building is too; it looks a bit tall for an ordinary house.'

'Oh. All right. How about you, Shadow?'

The elf rolled dark inscrutable eyes upwards to examine Ali's face. 'I'll come,' he said, eventually.

Ali grinned. 'Tynan!'

The ranger looked round. 'What's the problem, Ali?' he called, petting the little fleet dog, which seemed enthusiastic about this new game.

'There isn't a problem! We're going to go and find out what that is.' Ali pointed back up at the small visible part of the building above the trees.

Tynan frowned. 'I think it's an old tower; empty. It's been falling to pieces for years. Why?'

'No reason.' Ali shrugged.

Tynan laughed. 'Well, do as you like. I'll be here.' He dumped the puppy on the ground beside him, and pushed its rump down firmly. 'Sit, Raiki. Sit! Good boy!'

'All right.' Emlyn struggled to his feet. 'Let's go down the road, then. If it's a house it's bound to have access.'

Ali grinned, bouncing off ahead. 'I thought you weren't coming.'

'Someone's got to look out for you,' Emlyn retorted.

'You'd be good at that, of course.' Shadow's comment was barely audible, but Emlyn rounded on him, stung.

'I'd be better than you, at least I care! Why do you always have to sneer at me, anyway?'

Shadow gave him a blank look, raising one eyebrow, and Emlyn took a step towards him, clenching a fist.

'Emlyn, come on!' Ensa called, and he was distracted. Emlyn looked round and saw that Ensa had already scrambled down into the road, Star perched on her shoulder, and was looking around to see where he had got to.

'In a minute!' The young fighter looked back at Shadow, determined to have his say no matter what; but the elf had gone. Emlyn blinked; the damn slippery rogue! He must have slid into the trees as soon as Emlyn turned. That was just so - so…

Emlyn scowled and stomped after Ensa.

Ali had been right; the tower was ruined. Emlyn stood with Ensa on the road and craned his neck backwards to look up at it. The round stone tower was bulging at the base, and he could pick the larger stones surrounding the small arched windows. The bottom storey was in relatively good repair, only missing a few stones and bits of mortar, but the second storey had a gaping hole through the side closest to the road, and only traces of the wall footings showed that there must have once been a third above that. The trees and undergrowth pushed up close against the tower, cradling its sandy coloured stones in a blanket of greenery, and they could both hear the rustling and snapping as Ali pushed her way through the tangle somewhere out of sight.

'Stay back,' Ensa advised. 'It's probably structurally unsound.'

They both heard a person yelp from behind the tower. 'Ali!' Emlyn took a step forwards, raising his voice. 'Are you all right?'

'Yep, fine!' the girl called cheerfully back. 'Hey, come on round, I've found the way in. But watch out for the nettles!'

'Ali, stay out of there!' Emlyn shouted, worried. 'Ensa says it's not safe!'

There was no answer, but he could hear what sounded like something being vigorously shoved and scraped across the ground. What was Ali up to? Probably some kind of trouble; she was just the kind of person who would attract it.

The young fighter exchanged glances with the wizard. 'Come on. She'll be up to something again.' He plunged forwards into the undergrowth, using his weight to force a way around the base of the tower, following the slight trail of bent and broken branches that Ali's slimmer, lighter form had left. He could hear Ensa carefully picking her way along in his footsteps, clutching Star in one hand and her staff and the skirts of her robe in the other, and he smiled slightly, glad of her supporting presence.

'Ali! Where are you?'

'Here!' came back the unhelpful shout from somewhere ahead. 'Hurry up!'

Emlyn groaned in disbelief and forced his way onwards; then, unexpectedly stumbled as he found himself bursting out into a clearing, bits of twig and leaves stuck all over his new armour.

The light was brighter in the little open space, and Emlyn could glimpse the blazing blue sky above the trees, but otherwise it was a dreary area. The grass was scant, long and spindly, and seemed to be at least half nettles and long, lanky thistles with their feathery heads bedraggled. The only cheerful things in the area were the quantities of tall, leggy plants with long flower spikes in defiant and glorious pink; and Ali's slim bright figure.

The acrobat was standing by the wall of the tower, hopping impatiently from foot to foot. 'Come _on!'_ she implored. Beside her in the stone wall was a deeply set doorway built of huge weathered stones and containing a wooden door that had turned grey with age. It was standing ajar, with the scrape marks in the earth floor and tangles of greenery heaped up against it showing that Ali had forced it open.

'Ali, we're not going in there,' Emlyn said. 'Didn't you hear? It's not -'

He broke off. Ali, ignoring everything that he said, had slipped through the gap she'd made between the door and wall and disappeared into the ruined tower, leaving Emlyn gaping.

'Right, that is enough! I'm going to get her out of there, by force if I have to!'

'I think that's probably the only way you'll move her,' Ensa said dryly.

'Thanks for that.' Emlyn marched across the little piece of wasteland, thistle fluff floating around him, and forced himself through the little gap that the tumbler had slid through so easily, grunting with the effort. 'Ali, this is enough!'

He gave up when he saw that the young acrobat wasn't listening to a word that he said. Ali was only just visible in the faint light issuing through the jammed door, her head tilted backwards as she looked up into the tower. Another slim form - Shadow, Emlyn assumed, though he hadn't seen the elf arrive - was standing next to the girl, similarly absorbed. Emlyn turned his head to see what they were looking at.

'Oof!' Ensa said, exhaling as she managed to haul herself through the narrow gap and looked around her with interest, her darkvision letting her see the inside of the tower much more clearly than any of the others. 'You know, I don't think that this place was ever good for anything. It's not a dwelling at all; I think it's a folly, the kind noblemen with too much money build just to look scenic. Can't think who'd be looking at it in the middle of this wood, though.'

Emlyn didn't say anything. Without even looking at the half-orc, he reached out and pushed her head back so that she too was looking upwards.

'Oh, wow…' Ensa's breath died. 'That's…'

They never heard what she would have said, because with a crash that made Emlyn jump clean off the ground the door slammed shut and they were thrown into midnight blackness.


	22. A Way Out

_Nineteen after Sun's Height, 30016 DC_

Emlyn swore, his hand flying to his sword, Ali yelled in shock, and Ensa whirled around, her night-seeing eyes picking up the symbols etched on the back of the now firmly closed door. 'Magic!' Star, her fur standing stiffly on end, had wrapped her tail firmly around Ensa's neck, hissing. The wizard looked around frantically, trying to take in a room painted in disorienting bleached colours, that suddenly seemed full of strange -

'What's underfoot?' Ali asked, suddenly, feeling a change. Ensa glanced down - she saw from the corner of her eyes that everyone else did likewise, despite the fact that they couldn't see - and grimly answered the girl's question.

'Flagstones.' They all knew that it had been springy packed dirt in the ruined tower. Ensa swallowed and looked around in horror.

There was a loud clatter; Emlyn had taken a step, and knocked into something that wavered, overbalanced and fell noisily onto the stone floor. He froze guiltily, though he sounded as though more was bothering him than the worry that he might have damaged something. 'What was that?'

Ensa looked. The slender, branched shape was black against the deep grey floor and she had to bend down and touch it to feel the hard coldness of iron before she could explain it. 'A candle stand, I think. Don't anyone move; it's quite cluttered in here. I'll get some light; shut your eyes.'

Closing her own, she muttered a few words, flicking her stubby fingers in precise and intricate gestures, and _felt_ the spell ignite, the power streaming in a warm rush up her spine and down through her arm into the staff she was clutching in her right hand.

Everyone cracked their eyes open, blinking furiously to adjust to the sudden dazzling brightness filling the room. Then they looked around again; pale and wide-eyed as they discovered what Ensa had already realised.

This wasn't the ruined tower.

Ensa had the impression that they might be underground, and after a moment she realised that the reason for that was because the circular room was windowless. The stone walls were covered by tapestries; they might have been brightly coloured once, a long time ago, but were now too faded and dusty to make out the colours and patterns they had once displayed. The room was full of furniture; several other wrought iron candlesticks beside the one Emlyn had knocked over, a long table or workbench, a tall bookshelf with a few dilapidated tomes and some other dust-obscured objects, some more shelves over by the wall, a couple of chairs and a fat, once-plush couch, still piled with overstuffed cushions.

'Where the hell are we?' Ali yelped.

'We don't know!' Emlyn shot back. He picked his way between the furniture and went back to the door. 'Ensa, can you help me have a look at this?'

Ensa was still examining the room. Everything was covered in dust and clearly no one had been down here in many years; but, the wizard noted, there was no sign of moths or mice or other pests having got in. This place must be well sealed.

'Coming, Emlyn,' she said, but she paused before joining him, lifting Star in her hand. 'Have a look around,' she said, quietly. 'See if you can find a way out? I think you might not be able to, but I'd like you to try.'

The rat brushed her nose across Ensa's hand, whiskers quivering, and then whipped around and ran down the coarse skirt of the wizard's robe, scurrying across the dished flagstones of the floor to disappear into the shadows by the wall.

* * *

There was no door any more. Emlyn stared at it stupidly, his heart suddenly pounding. He'd been fooled initially because there was an alcove cut into the stonework of the wall, the same size and shape as the arched doorway had been in the ruined tower. But the magic symbols Ensa had spotted were etched onto stonework that showed no sign it ever had or could move. His mind raced wildly. How could they get out now? What should they _do_?

'Don't bother,' he said, hoarsely, as the half-orc came over to join him. 'We're not getting out here.'

'I'd still like to know how we got in,' Ensa muttered. She squeezed herself in beside Emlyn and ran her hands across the wall, brushing dust from the written spell fragments. 'I think I can work out what this is, Emlyn. Might give me some chance of reversing it.'

'You can do that?' Emlyn asked with sudden hope.

'Mm.' Ensa was absorbed in the runes. 'This is obviously a transport… see this combination here? It's related to a Draconic phrase that roughly translates, uh, "many days travel"… and this here might be about the mechanism of the door, but… see, it's not an inscription describing what it does, it's the spell itself, and they're not written plain. You have to be a magic user to even start thinking about deciphering them, and this is way beyond my level. I don't think I can undo it or move us back. I can't cast a spell nearly this powerful. What I'm hoping is that it might already have the reverse translocation as part of spell and I might be able to figure out how to activate it… uh, _gebeh, mirin, dan_… well, if it makes you feel better, I think we're still on Iluen.'

It didn't. Emlyn swallowed again. 'There were other choices?'

'Well, there are other places.' Ensa wasn't really paying attention; she was counting on her fingers as she scanned the spell again. Emlyn left her to get on with it, biting down his panicked impulse to urge her to hurry, and looked around for the others. Shadow he couldn't see; the elf had slipped away among the clutter in the room and must be lurking somewhere. Ali was still where she had been, looking around with interest.

Emlyn picked his way back over to the girl, picking up the candle stand he'd knocked over and setting it upright again. 'You all right, Ali?'

'Yep,' Ali said brightly. 'What do we do now?'

Emlyn blinked and looked at the acrobat. Actually, she didn't look at all worried. Curious, perhaps; but even that was eager and slightly excited.

'Ensa's going to figure this out,' he said - more confidently than he really felt, but he wasn't going to let on that he was even a little frightened when Ali so clearly had no such apprehension. 'And we should - uh -' His mind blanked. He wished desperately that Tynan was here. The ranger always seemed to know what to do. The best that Emlyn could manage was a slightly frantic '- uh, search for another way out, just in case.'

'Sure.' Ali flipped herself over a table that stood in her way and dodged lightly through the furniture. Taken aback, Emlyn turned and picked his way around a pair of bookcases to the other side of the room, wincing at the noise as he knocked his armour plate against the corner of one tall wooden shelf. The acrobat didn't even seem to have _noticed_ that they had been magically transported to - well, the gods knew where. He shook his head in disbelief.

All right. There might or might not be a door, and they might or might not be able to get out of it into wherever they were now and find a way back. But it was all right. Ali was right not to be worried. Ensa was deciphering the spell and Tynan was outside, and if they didn't come back soon then he'd be looking for a way to get them out too. They'd get them out. It _was_ going to be fine. He clenched his stomach muscles, trying to dissipate the tight feeling.

In the mean time, he could do worse than following his own advice to Ali. Ahead of him was the masonry wall, curving gently away in both directions. He rested a hand gently on its slightly fuzzy dust-coated surface and followed it round to the right, leaving a dark clean train where his hand had rested. Rooms did have doors, after all.

Emlyn almost didn't see Shadow crouching in a small open space behind the workbench, and almost fell over the elf, who shot to his feet and moved out of the way in a hurry. 'Watch where you're going!'

Emlyn blushed, feeling clumsy and more than usually heavy in his full armour. Shadow sounded truly irritated. 'Move aside,' the elf ordered.

Emlyn jumped out of the way, his sword swinging against the wall with a dull crack, winced, bit his tongue, and asked meekly, 'What are you looking at?' The elf had knelt down again to examine some sort of marks on the floor, but the clutter in the room was between them and Ensa's light and the human couldn't see clearly enough to make out what Shadow was looking at. He'd have put them down as nothing if he'd noticed them at all.

Shadow didn't deign to answer, and Emlyn couldn't even guess from his impassive face whether the elf thought he'd found something good or bad, or even significant. The fighter was about to bury his embarrassment and annoyance and ask again when the light went out.

His eyes still full of the bleached aftereffects of being plunged into darkness, he heard Ensa click her tongue across the room. 'Sorry,' her gravely voice echoed out of the blackness. 'Just give me a few seconds.'

Emlyn could feel Shadow shifting beside him, stirring the air. Then there was a stiff creaking noise, and a shower of light and dust poured onto his head.

He had squeezed his eyes shut instinctively. Now, spitting out the furry taste in his mouth and brushing dirt out of his hair, Emlyn cautiously opened them and looked upwards. There was a square of light in the high ceiling.

'What is it?' he heard Ensa call out of the blackness, and he moistened his mouth and raised his voice.

'A trapdoor! That's how whoever used this room got in and out.' He could smell the fresher air streaming down from above, and the light was making solid beams through the thick dust hanging in the air.

'Good.' Ensa sounded as though she was coming in their direction. 'Star, come back here, please… I've looked at this spell, and there's good news and bad news. I think there _is_ a reverse; but to use it we need to have the key.'

'Key.' Emlyn swallowed. That didn't sound like good news. 'What sort of a key, Ensa?' His voice sounded hoarse and he squeezed his hands into fists.

'Uh - it could look like a key, or it could be an amulet, a badge, a crystal, some sort of ornament or statuette… probably nothing that would get damaged or broken too easily…'

'So we just have to find it.' Emlyn looked around wildly. There was so much clutter in the room. 'Well - we can do that! We just need to dust down all the stuff that's on the shelves and -'

'Actually -' Ensa cut across him '- it's a little more complicated than that. It's not here.'

There was a silence. Emlyn almost felt it falling around him, thick and despairing. 'How can you be sure?' he managed, croaking through his dry, dust-filled throat.

'I did a _detect magic_. Emlyn, when we find it I'll know it; there's nothing else that'll be carrying those auras. But I assure you it's not in here. We'll have to go up. Look at that light; it's not outside, there's a building up there. Chances are the key is up there somewhere. And now you've found the door.'

'But we can't get to it.' Emlyn heard his voice almost wailing now and bit his lip so hard he could taste the salty tang of blood through the grittiness of the dusty air. Concentrate. Concentrate. There were things that had to be done now, and if he panicked he was only going to embarrass himself. They could get out of there. They _would_.

He _really_ wished Tynan was here.

'Huh.' The snort came from behind him and sounded distinctly unimpressed. '_You_ can't get to it, you mean.' Ali raised her voice. 'Hey! Can we get a better light?'

Ensa didn't bother to answer that, but another dazzle burst into the air and then the wizard stepped beside Shadow, her hand outlined blackly where it gripped her brightly glowing staff.

'Better,' Ali muttered. She was examining with her eyes the distance between where she stood and the lit square of the trapdoor. 'Right.'

She flexed her fingers and wrists and stepped over to the wall, looking upwards to examine the patterns of the masonry blocks and then said lightly. 'Huh. Emlyn, give me a leg up.'

'Oh - sure.' Emlyn hurried over to stand beside her and laced his hands together for the slim girl to use as a step. Professional, competent Ali was always such a surprise to him.

Her boots ground faintly against his fingers as the acrobat stepped onto the platform of his hands, and then he felt the shift of her weight and the bunching of her muscles as she half-sprang, half-scrambled upwards to stand on his shoulders, steadying herself initially against the wall and then standing freely. He could feel her moving her weight to compensate as he shifted to brace under her weight and tried desperately not to move too much.

'Don't show off, Ali,' Ensa said, sternly, behind him. 'Lean against the wall.'

Emlyn could almost feel the acrobat's scorn in the shifting and bracing of her legs. 'This isn't showing off. It's easy,' she said, loftily, and then her slight weight lifted off Emlyn's shoulders and he was able to stand back beside Ensa and look up at her.

Ali did make it look easy. She climbed swiftly and without hesitation, reaching for a new hold almost before it seemed to the watchers below that she had made sure of the old one. Emlyn thought he caught the faintest hint of a long breath and glanced at Shadow to see the elf looking genuinely admiring. He longed to comment; even opened his mouth to speak, and then remembered that he might distract the acrobat. By the time Emlyn recovered himself, Shadow's green-black eyes were tracking Ali's progress as opaquely as ever.

* * *

Ensa held her breath as she watched the girl climb, and even Star, creeping back to her mistress through the scuffed up dust of the floor, was being as silent as she knew how. If ever Ali was beautiful, it was now, the wizard thought. The acrobat's slim body was ascending swiftly through the beams of light pouring from the trapdoor, and the silver stripe in her costume was flashing and catching the light. For a second Ensa wondered where Ali had got such an obviously expensive piece of material to sew into her outfit, and then dismissed the speculation as something for another time.

Ali reached the top of the wall. They saw her head tilt back as she looked at the edge of the trapdoor; and then, without warning, she kicked off from the wall, her body arcing backwards in mid-air for a second before snatching onto the edge of the hole in the ceiling. She swung there for another instant, and then with a quick jerk swung herself upwards and tumbled out of their sight onto the floor above.

There was a second of silence, and then Ali's head appeared again in the gap, grinning. 'See? Easy!'

Ensa finally let out her breath, hearing Emlyn do the same beside her. 'Well done, Ali!' She bent down and extended a hand to Star to let the rat climb up onto her shoulder, leaving dusty footprints smeared up Ensa's sleeve. 'Do you have a rope?'

There was an awkward silence, and then Shadow stepped forwards. 'Here.' With a quick, economical movement he tossed the end of a rope up to the girl waiting above. 'Let's go.'


End file.
